Of Letters and Fellowships and Everything in Between
by Mashpotatoe Queen
Summary: Aragorn is a boy running away from his heritage. Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin are the first proper wizards of the Shire since Bilbo Baggins himself. Boromir is trying to uphold the family honor. Gimli really wants to play quiditch. And Legolas just wants to move freely without his father breathing down his back. Luckily, Hogwarts will always be there to welcome them home.
1. And so it Begins

**Hey everyone! I'm baaaack!**

 **This story is dedicated to Andy the willow tree, who is one of the most fantabulous persons I have ever had the joy of receiving a review from. Everyone, give this person a round of applause, cause Andy has patiently waited for this story for quite a while. She/He had never complained, and has been a huge supporter for me. THANK YOU, ANDY! YOU'RE THE BEST!**

 **Next, I would like to say that I do not know if I will finish this story. I will definitely get three chapters in, or more, so that I can include the sorting hat scene, but beyond that is anyone's guess. I want to finish it though, so we will see. (It's just if I do finish it, it will be a very elaborate tale, and I still don't know what my school schedule will allow. So I may have a lot of time, I may not, so just be warned.)**

 **Last but not least:**

 _ **This chapter contains mentions of mild neglect and verbal abuse! If this will trigger you or make you sad in any way, please do not read cause I don't want to hurt you and I want you to be happy in life.**_

 **Anywho, I hope you enjoy! :D**

 **...**

The envelope was pale, crisp, and neat, and scrawled upon the parchment were but a few simple words:

 _Mr. A. King_

 _The Oak Tree in the Yard_

 _3, Bruinen Road_

 _Imladris_

 _Rivendell_

Were it any other letter, Aragorn would have already teared it open and examined its contents. But this was no ordinary letter, for there, sealing the envelope closed, was a very familiar insignia, which marked the letter to be no ordinary letter at all.

It was his Hogwarts acceptance letter, and Aragorn couldn't be more rejected.

He had been hoping, he guessed, that he would be able to avoid it. That he would turn out to be a squib, or a muggle, or perhaps he would be overlooked all together. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with Hogwarts.

He wanted to avoid the stares. He wanted to avoid the belittling whispers and the scathing, judging looks. He wanted to avoid being the center of attention, because he hated attention, especially that kind of attention.

It was bad enough when people came to visit his adoptive father and met him, causing them to do a double-take and then look at Elrond with incredulous eyes, as if he wasn't actually in the room.

("Aragorn King? You mean the Aragorn King? Grandson of Isildur King?")*

And that was his defining trait, that he was related to a man he had never met. No matter that he wasn't even alive when Isildur betrayed the order and allowed the Dark Lord to rise to power, causing millions to lose their lives. No matter that his father was a good man who fought hard against the darkness, till his dying breath. No matter that the Dark Lord was dead now, dead and gone for the rest of forever.**

(He hoped…)

And now he would have to deal with an entire school of people doing just that. Staring and hating and judging him for crimes he had never committed and lives he could never save.

And he didn't want it. He just wanted to be normal…

"Estel?"

The brunette jumped at the sound of his nickname, but not enough to make him fall from his perch. With a small sigh- it appeared as if his time of thinking was about to come to an end- he looked down through the branches in order to spot his father.

"Yeah Dad?"

"Are you alright? You've been up there for quite a while."

The concern was real, not fake or mocking, and he was happier for it; at least he knew someone didn't care about his heritage.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just... thinking."

Elrond nodded, but did not push for further answers, which was something Aragorn appreciated.

"We'll be leaving for Diagon Alley tomorrow, just to let you know. Your brothers are most… excited.

Here the elder frowned, and Aragorn could not help but laugh. The twins were no doubt plotting some ridiculous prank, and for the first time since he received his letter that morning, he felt excited for what was to come.

With a flying leap, he jumped down from the oak tree and landed on the ground next to his father, who raised an eyebrow at his antics.

Aragorn simply grinned, deciding that he would deal with Hogwarts when he was at Hogwarts, and would enjoy the rest of his summer while he still could. Then he took off running to the house, calling over his shoulder that he was hungry for lunch.***

Elrond's eyebrow creeped even higher upon his face, but there was a smile in his eyes as he called for the boy to make his own lunch. Then he took off after his son, at a much more stately pace.

* * *

When Boromir received his acceptance letter, no one was surprised.

His father gave him a proud pat on the shoulder and ruffled his hair, telling him that they would hold a party in celebration. His brother hugged him tightly in excitement, his mouth babbling a hundred words a minute about all the various things he would get to do and all the different people he would get to meet, describing the different houses once more in an endless tirade that Boromir patiently endured, if only to make Faramir happy.

Later, his father took him to the side and explained to him how he was destined to become a prefect and head boy for Gryffindor, just like everyone else in the family. Boromir had nodded eagerly along until the man looked away, and then he had despaired; he was not of the intellectual sorts.

(All he really wanted to do was play quidditch.)

And then, even later, when his father had gotten drunk and yelled at Faramir again, Boromir had quickly picked his brother up- he was rather strong for an eleven year old and his little brother was rather small for a nine year old- and tucked him into bed, shutting the door in hopes of blocking out the noise.

When Faramir had asked for him to stay, Boromir happily complied, cramming himself into the tiny bed with the younger. Then he tucked the blond head under his chin and talked of the faraway school and all the various things he was going to do there. About how he would send sweets and letters back home every single day and how he would play pranks on his teachers and make mistakes on his homework because his genius little brother wasn't there to help him.

And when he had at last talked Faramir to sleep, he did not leave. He laid there, listening to his father's drunken slurring and worrying about what would happen when he was no longer there to protect his little brother from it.

And then he slept, tugging Faramir close and hoping that an answer could be found in his dreams.

* * *

The Shire was a lovely place to be in the summer. The grass was always green and bright, the brooks bubbled merrily through the rolling hills, and flowers blossomed in a rainbow of colors as far as the eye could see.

The people were rather lovely as well. They were kind and hospitable, and a smile was always quick to their faces. They tended to their gardens and their potions, and enjoyed the pleasantries of muggle appliances.

For the Shire was not a wizard community, nor a muggle community, but a squib community.

The town had developed over the years, squibs from all around finding a home amongst people who were just like them, where they were not ridiculed or treated as less. Where they could make a life for themselves as themselves, where they would not have to pretend to be a muggle but would not have to pretend to be a witch or a wizard.

It was a small, bustling community, and the squibs were not bitter towards their magical relations. No, not at all.

(At least, most were not. Or some. Or a few…)

So there the people lived with no magic but awareness of magic, and that was how it always was, with a few notable exceptions.

It was here, amidst a large orchid, that some of those notable exceptions were placed. They were clambering up the trees, daring each other to climb the highest or the fastest, when something interrupted their game.

Four large birds swooped down from the sky, landing in front of the four boys, in their claws four identical looking envelopes.

Now, the sight of letter-bearing owls was not too peculiar. Squibs had families and friends who they corresponded with, and the birds always were the most popular choice for communication amongst the wizarding class.

But still, having the owls arrive at the exact same time was very strange.

Eagerly, the boys grabbed the letters from waiting claws, their eyes getting wider and wider as they read further and further into the note.

There was a moment of silence once they finished reading, the children looking at one another with bated breath.

Then cheers of excitement split through the air, loud enough to scare off the birds.

"We're going to Hogwarts!"

"We're going to Hogwarts!"

"We have to tell Bilbo!"

They ran through the village, their cries of triumph shattering the peaceful silence there. When they at last reached the familiar green door, they stormed in without even a knock, for Frodo- one of the lucky boys- lived there with the wizard, and the house had become their stomping grounds.

"Uncle Bilbo!"

"Bilbo! Look!"

"We got our letters!"

"We're going to Hogwarts, Sir! Just like in your stories!" ****

Delighted laughter interrupted their enthusiastic chatter, and they could not help but join in, for their cheer was overflowing and their joy was infectious.

Bilbo was a short man, and the only proper wizard in all of the Shire. He had long told stories of his life in the wizarding school- both as a teacher and as a student- and had many a parent hunt him down for putting tales of magic and mischief into their children's heads.

"That's great, lads! I can't wait to see you all there! Your parents must be so happy-"

Upon seeing the boys alarmed expressions, he paused his thrilled speech and crossed his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow as he did so.

"You have told your parents, right?"

Merry and Pippin glanced at each other simultaneously, eyes wide, and then turned on their heels and ran to the door- letters still grasped tightly in their hands and brown curls bouncing upon their heads- yelling over their shoulders their apologies and see-you-laters.

Sam stood stock still for a single moment, before he too excused himself in order to go and tell his own father, though at least he had the decency to give a proper goodbye and to not slam the door on the way out.

When at last the two were alone, Frodo looked up at his uncle with a confused look.

"Uncle Bilbo, you do know that their parents wouldn't have minded them telling you first, right?"

The herbology professor looked down to meet his nephews brilliant blues, his own brown eyes filled with mischievousness

"Yes Frodo, I know, I just wanted to see their expressions…"

They laughed, their happiness bright, and went over what the new pupil would need to get in Diagon Alley, when would be a good time for them to leave, and if they would like to get the materials with the rest of the new students, which was a definite yes.

And then Bilbo was pulling the boy along to his study, his eyes bright, and leaning in close, as if to tell a secret.

"I'm about to give you something, Frodo, something that I found in my own school days at Hogwarts."

The younger eagerly opened his palm, but his face changed to confusion when he saw what was placed there.

"It's a ring?"

Indeed, it was, a simple gold ring with no decorations or designs. Plain and non-descript.

"Yes. It is, but it's a magic ring. Go on, put it on."

Frodo did, but nothing changed for him. Frowning, he looked up at his uncle.

"Look down, lad"

When the boy did so, he could not help but yelp in surprise, for his body was no longer there. When he understood the implications of what the trinket could do, he smiled brightly and took it off, slipping it safely into his pocket. Then he leapt upon Bilbo and gave him a fierce hug, his excitement bright and his laughter mingling with the elder's.

All was well.

For now.

* * *

Gimli received his letter in the middle of a quidditch match.

He had been flying through the air, Quaffle in hand, and was about to make a score when a large barn owl had landed upon his head and made him swerve, off balance and blinded by feathers.

He crash landed, and then the bird had jumped off and landed in front of him, giving him a nasty look, as if it was his fault that they went down.

Still, when he saw what was grasped in the owl's claws he forgot all about lost victories and unexpected falls. He eagerly grabbed the envelope and went back into the air, yelling with all his might and proudly showing off the paper to his older cousins, Fili and Kili, when they flew over to have a look.

They had congratulated him and insisted that they go and show the parents, to which Gimli had happily complied.

Entering the large stone house with letter held high ignited an instant response, and he soon found himself surrounded by his family. His father slapped him on the back and Dwalin growled out a congratulations. Bombur somehow concocted a huge array of food, and Bofor brought out the butterbeer and the firewhiskey, and Gimli's acceptance into Hogwarts deteriorated into a party.

But that wasn't so surprising; in his family, everything somehow deteriorated into a party.*****

* * *

Legolas was looking out his window, hoping to see a familiar flash of white in the dark horizon, when his father abruptly opened the door to his room, making him jump.

"What are you doing, Legolas?"

Legolas glanced back outside, now hoping not to see a familiar flash of white in the dark horizon. His Ada couldn't know, not until it was too late.

"Nothing Ada. Just… thinking."***

Thranduil did not look convinced, raising an eyebrow in questioning manner.

"Hmm? What about?"

Legolas sighed and curled into the window seat, eyes straying to the world outside once more.

"Not anything in particular, Ada."

His father was silent for a few moments, and he feared that Thranduil would try and pry once more. But he did not, simply leaving the room as silently as he entered.

Legolas slumped even further against the pane the second he was alone, letting his relief out with a single gust of air. His secret was safe, for now.

Suddenly, the blonde sat up straighter- a smile lighting up on his face- for there, in the distance, he could see a speck of white, rapidly moving closer.

As fast as he could, he dashed to the door and checked the hallway. Once he saw it was all clear, he ran back to the window and opened it wide, waving his hands in exaggerated motions in order to attract the speck's attention.

With a swerving movement, the white spot changed course and headed to Legolas, growing form a meaningless dot to a large snowy owl, which landed in front of the youth in a dramatic flurry of wings.

He smiled, reaching out and gently stroking the soft feathers, crooning out compliments and praises as he did so.

"That's a good boy, Arod. You did so well… C'mon, let's get you something to drink, and I got some treats for you!"

Arod cooed appreciatively, pecking lightly at his master's ear in affection, and flew over to the large cage in the corner of the bedroom, where the promised treats were waiting.******

As his owl ate, Legolas carefully untied the letters from it's leg and took them to his bed, where he sat and opened the first envelope, a green one addressed with only his name. Quickly he read through it's contents.

Dear Mr. Greanleaf,

This letter is a response to the one you sent requesting your studies take place in Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While it is unusual for us to accept a student outside of our assigned lists, I see no reason for you not to attend, as long as your parents or guardians agree to the change, of course.

Along with this letter, I have sent our customary Hogwart's Acceptance Letter, which includes all the supplies you will need to acquire before school starts.

There are two ways you can come to Hogwarts, either by the Hogwarts Express- which leaves Station 9 ¾ on September First- or you may have a parent or guardian drop you off on the premises.

If you do choose to attend Hogwarts, please have your parent or guardian send an owl that states you have their full permission.

Looking forward to your possible attendance, and hoping to see you next year,

Gandalf Grey

Headmaster *******

Legolas pumped his fist in the air, resisting the urge to shout in triumph. It had worked. His plan had worked! He wouldn't have to go to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic after all!

His father was a good man, of this he was sure, but he was also the most overprotective person he had ever met.

And he knew, he knew, that Thranduil just didn't want to lose him. That his father did what he did because he was scared of losing him, like he lost his wife. That he should really be grateful that his father cared so much, even if the way he cared wasn't the most obvious.

But it was getting ridiculous. Too extreme. Legolas couldn't even go outside- into his own backyard- without someone following him, hovering just a few steps away. He wasn't allowed into town, muggle or otherwise, without a full-blown escort, bodyguards included.

And wherever he went within the house, someone always somehow found themselves in the same room, whether it be the butler dusting a dustless vase or a maid shining spotless cutlery.

The worst part was that despite all the company, Legolas always felt so alone. No one really talked to him, and the little conversation he instigated were always filled with short, curt answers and an endless amount of Master Greenleaf 's and Mister Legolas's and Sir's, and so many tones of formality and polite toleration that it offered no comfort.

And Legolas' father, despite putting the staff up to his constant surveillance, was rarely in his life at all. The man was always busy with work and business, always sending out messages and always signing permission forms and rule agreements, and that was during the summer, when his father was not being headmaster over in Beauxbaton. During school months, Legolas wa lucky if he talked to his father for more than a minute at a time.

When he turned eleven the subject of schools started to pop up, and it was decided- decided for him- that he would attend his father's school.

And Legolas loved Beauxbatons, he had practically grown up there. (The professors used to joke that he was the school mascot.) He loved the elegant stonework and the carefully manicured gardens. He loved his dorms there, which he shared with his father, and the students who had doted upon him.

But the idea of being stuck there- trapped- for the rest of his childhood. Always being watched, never being alone (but always being alone at the same time). Always being someone who was different, always someone you had to be careful around, because he was the headmaster's son.

And he couldn't. He didn't want that. He wanted to make friends, he wanted to talk and laugh and tell silly stories without the fear of being watched. He wanted to be free to make his own choices, to go outside and climb a tree without ten adults suddenly appearing to try and persuade him to come down. He wanted to not be special or important or treated differently, but accepted and belonging and welcomed.

And he would never be able to do that in his father's school.

And so he had sent a letter to Hogwarts, asking- begging- for them to allow him to attend. He had prepared himself for declination, but they had said yes. They had said yes. And now all he had to do was convince his Ada to let him go, and he was set.

And he could do that. He could.

With a joyful smile he hugged the letter close, his happiness bursting out of him with a brilliant laugh. Suddenly, his excitement was too much to keep still any longer, and he leapt from the bed, dancing around the room with his hands high in the air, reaching for the nonexistent stars.

Upon seeing his master dancing, Arod quickly joined in, flying around the blonde in graceful swoops, occasionally joining the gleeful cries with his own loud screech.

And then Legolas was laughing, taking a flying jump to his bed and landing on his belly, sliding a few feet on the silky sheets.

Still giggling from excursion and glee, he quickly reached out and grabbed the second letter, the one with elegant blue script, and gently broke the unfamiliar seal.

 **We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...**

 **...**

 **And so it begins... :D**

 **Notes:**

 ***** I know, I know, not a very creative last name. I hope you can survive.

 ****** I might have skipped a _couple_ of generations between Islidur and Aragorn... Oops?

 ******* I based this off my little sister, who's 11. She sometimes does this, be all sulky and philosophical and then run off with cheer and a craving of food.

 ******** Can you tell who said what? :)

 ********* Not a lot of screen time for Gimli, sorry Gimli, and all Gimli fans. He'll get more screen time later. Also, I feel that the Dwarf family will celebrate everything after all they've been through- which none of you guys know nothing about, sorry- don't judge.

 ********** Yup, Arod is an owl. A big white showy-offy snowy owl.

 *********** My friends, writing Gandalf Grey instead of Gandalf THE Grey gives one of the weirdest feelings I have ever had.

 **So there you go, my take on a Harry Potter/Lotr crossover! This fic will NOT include any characters from the HP books, at least I'm not planning for it, and it will mainly draw story elements from Lotr, not HP.**

 **I hope you all liked this chapter, and I hope it wasn't something you have read a thousand times. I think my favorite bits are the shire being a squib community and Arod being an owl. I find that amusing. I hope you all found it amusing too!**

 **To Andy the willow tree, thank you again for being so kind and generous, and I really hope you enjoyed! :D**

 **Till next time,**

 **The Mashpotatoe Queen**


	2. Of Old Friendships and New

**I AM SO SORRY! Life has been a mess of traveling and personal business and school and stupid broken fanfiction accounts that won't post anything! I'm here now, and I'm really, really sorry.**

 **I know it's not very good, or very long, and only includes a few characters, but I felt as if all the characters who were not in this chapter wouldn't experience anything too important to the plot, so I didn't write them.**

 **I did not include Diagon Alley, mainly because the sound of writing eight wand sortings and robe gatherings sounded boring and unnecessary. If you would like me to, though, I'll definitely write it. :)**

 **Super huge sparkly apology to Andy the willow tree, who has waited so patiently and deserves so much more than this. *bows head in shame* I'll do better next time, promise! *grovels for forgiveness***

 **Anyways, Hope you enjoy!**

 **...**

" _C'mon_ Bilbo! We're gunna be late!"

Pippin and Merry were racing ahead, _again_ , their various luggage bouncing every which way upon their trolleys. Sam watched on with an exasperated sigh, and Frodo and Bilbo laughed at their antics.

He never really did understand how the two became so mischievous and silly. It seemed like just yesterday he was offering two shy little boys to join in on a game and now suddenly _they_ were the ones taking his hand and dragging him along on random, sometimes stupid, adventures.

"Hurry up, Sam!"

That was his cue.

With a sigh, he started off with a light jog and caught up with Frodo, who flashed him a sunny smile in response. He smiled back, because it was hard to be anxious about the future when your best friend was so excited for it, and they both picked up speed in hopes of keeping up with the loud, talkative bouncy-balls that just so happened to be Merry and Pippin.

When they at last arrived at the entrance to platform 9 ¾ , Sam was panting lightly in excursion. He was also confused.

 _Where was the train?_

It was then that Bilbo explained the process of going through the solid brick wall in order to get to the platform. Merry and Pippin seemed excited about it- they had probably ran into plenty of walls in their lifetimes- and Frodo seemed confused but willing to try.

Sam was completely terrified and flabbergasted, because they wanted him to _run into a wall._

On _purpose_.*

"Alright Merry, you first."

The herbology professor smiled at the youth. who flashed his own smile before running full tilt towards the barrier.**

In an instant, he vanished.

Sam's jaw dropped in response.

Pippin went next, eager to join his partner in crime, and he too disappeared into thin air.

Then went Frodo, who flashed Sam an encouraging grin as he took off.

Then it was his turn.

Nervously, Sam gulped, his grip tightening upon the trolley's handle.

He looked up when a hand landed firmly on his shoulder, only to be met with Bilbo's knowing smile.

"Go along Sam, they're waiting for you."

Sam nodded, his face set in determination, and started to run.

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by a cacophony of noise. Parents were yelling to their children, asking them to write and to stay out of trouble. Old friends were giving jubilant greetings, younger children were playing, babies were crying, owls were screeching, and the train steamed and whistled.

He blinked, trying to accustom himself to the sound, but then their was a hand on his shoulder and Frodo was their, grinning brightly. Obediently, he followed his friend through the crowds until they found Merry and Pippin, who were gushing over how they had run through the brick wall.

Bilbo soon joined them, and then they were hustling and bustling through mass of people once more.

They were situated upon the train and their luggage was neatly stowed. Sam gently set Bill- he had insisted on calling it Bill despite the other's protestations- the pygmy owl on it's own seat.

Then Bilbo was calling out for them to have a safe trip and they were all frantically waving out the window, even though they would see the man around Hogwarts. He was, after all, a professor there.

And then the train was moving down the tracks, a piercing whistle echoing through the caverns and drowning out the cries of farewells.

Sam was sitting back more comfortably into the cushion, preparing himself to enjoy the long journey ahead, when he noticed there was a boy looking through the window of the compartment.

The boy's hood was pulled up and the glass was blurred, so he couldn't see to many details, but still, he found it rather odd…

But then Merry and Pippin were bringing out the sandwiches and Sam was too immersed in the idea of food to care much.

By the time he remembered to look back at the window, the boy was long gone.***

* * *

Aragorn dragged his luggage once more through the aisle, trying to find an empty compartment. Or, at least, one without fifty people in it.

His elder brothers had offered to let him sit with them, but their compartment had been filled with friends- and more importantly, _people-_ and students that he had never met, and they had _looked_ at him and he was out of there before Elladan had even gotten a chance to say hello.

Right before he was about to give up- Perhaps he would go back to that one compartment with those four boys? They seemed nice enough…- he noticed an empty compartment near the end of the train.

With a sigh of relief, Aragorn started to open the door.

It was then he realized that the compartment was not _completel_ y empty…

There was one other person there.

It was a boy, so slight and thin that he was almost non-existent. He had long golden hair that was wrapped into a tight bun, and his fingers were twisting and spinning a long, elegant wand with an ivory handle.****

Aragorn considered quietly closing the door and going to search for an empty compartment, but something must have alerted the blonde of his presence, because the boy swiveled around in his seat, where he had been watching the world go by, and looked at him.

The smile offered from the boy seemed genuine enough, and so Aragorn flashed his own- slightly sheepish- smile and stepped a little further into the compartment.

"Uh, do you mind if I sit with you? Everywhere else is kind of full…"

( _Or, at least, more full than this one… But the other boy didn't need to know that…_ )

The blonde leapt up, a brilliant grin upon his face, and shook his head empathetically.

"Oh, no, no, not at all. It's perfectly fine! Here, uh, let me help with that."

Together,with a lot of grunting and maneuvering, the two boys managed to heave Aragorn's trunk onto the luggage rack.

Once finished, Aragorn plopped down on the seat and tried to catch his breath, his eyes closed.

As it turned out, he would not have long to rest.

"Soo, what's your name? Mine's Legolas. Legolas Greanleaf."

Aragorn peeked his eyelid open, preparing himself for the customary shock, incredulousness, anger, and/or fear.

He almost didn't want to tell. Almost wanted to give a different name, to save the tentative friendship-like thing that was developing between himself and the strange blonde boy.

But what was the point? If he gave a false name, it would just be revealed later at the sorting ceremony that he was lying. Then he wouldn't only see anger or fear, he'd see betrayal too.

And he was _not_ his grandfather. He was _never_ going to betray _anyone_.

 _Ever_.

"I'm Aragorn King."

Instinctively, he tensed, waiting for the denial. The cold shoulder. The _hate_.

What he got instead was a blinding smile.

"Cool name! So, what's your wand made out of, mine's made out of Applewood, and it has a Unicorn Hair core…" *****

Aragorn could not help but blink at the complete lack of response, for Legolas was treating the situation as if he had _not_ just met the grandson of the most detested wizard in the last ten centuries. ******

And as he dazedly explained that his own wand was made with Willow wood and with a Phoenix core, he couldn't help but allow an inkling of hope blossom in his chest.*******

And as Legolas made him laugh more than he had in months, he could feel the cements of friendship being formed.

And as the blonde's ringing laughter mingled with his own, Aragorn could not help but think that his year would not be quite as bad as he thought.

 **...**

 **AND CUT! :D**

 **Notes:**

 ***** Yes, I know that Sam is a magic, but he was also raised in a Squib community. As such, he won't be used to enchantments and such, and the idea of running straight into a wall is hard to get around when you are not used to the idea of it.

 ****** Just in case you didn't get it the last chapter, I made Bilbo a herbolgy professor. Yup... Also, characters from The Hobbit will appear in this story, but only as professors. I have this whole background planned out for them... Maybe I'll write it some day... Maybe I wont. :/

 ******* This was my take on the Prancing Pony Scene, trying to wrangle it into a Hogwarts world...

 ******** I imagine that Legolas wouldn't get out much, or exercise much, because of his fathers over protectiveness, and that would make him rather pale and thin and kind of unhealthy looking. *shrugs* I don't know if that makes sense or not.

 ********* I based all my wand choices off of this super helpful website here: wiki/Wand Applewood is a wood that does not mix well with Dark Magic, and it says owners of Applewood live long lives and are often well loved. Owners of Applewood also sometimes have the ability to converse with other magical creatures in their native tongues. A Unicorn Hair Core is the least likely core to turn to the dark arts, and it's a consistent and loyal kind of core. This kind of Wand just seemed to fit Legolas the most out of all the options, so there you are! :)

 ********** The way I see it, Legolas is just happy to be able to talk to someone, and he believes full-heartedly in second chances. He's not one to judge someone for crimes they had not committed. He's not just naive, he's just kinder and more open-minded than some wizened and older adults who get stuck in the past and forget that Aragorn is a boy, and only that.

 *********** Willow wood has uncommon healing powers, and owners of willow wood appear to have, usually unwarrented, insecurities. They normally choose those with great potential, and they enable the casting of non-verbal magic. Phoenix cores are the most picky and their allegiance is the most hard-won, but they are very loyal once you have it. This kind of wand just seemed right for Aragorn, though I was stuck between Willow and Hawthorn for the wood. :)

 **Now that the ENDLESS Notes is done, I would like each and every one of you who read this! You guys are awesome! Any reviews/comments/advice/criticism will be loved. :)**

 **To Kitty037, Harrison Orion Black, Storm of Golden Fire, SelarahMorgan, and Andy the willow tree- who favorited/followed this story- a huge ginormous THANK YOU! Your support is very much appreciated!**

 **To Andy the willow tree, Shade, and Selarah Morgan, THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING YOU BEAUTIFUL SOULS! You guys are utterly AMAZING!**

 **(To _Shade_ , I love Boromir too! We can glomp him together if you want... :D Also, I most ask, what's "All switched" mean?)**

 **Everyone Applaud Andy the willow tree! EVERYONE! ANDY DESERVES IT! *bows and cheers and dances around in his/her honor***

 **Aaaand, I'm done. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I hope the next chapter will come up quicker than this one!**

 **-The Mashpotatoe Queen**


	3. The Sorting

**Hello there! I'm back!**

 **Do you see how quickly I wrote this!? This is 4,329 words long WITHOUT the author's note! 4,329 WORDS! BAM!**

 **Anywho...**

 **This story is written in honor of Andy the willow tree, who is incredibly awesome and fantabulous. :D**

 **Everyone ready? Got your snacks? Your drinks? Your heads? (Those are pretty important, ya know.) Yes? Alrighty, Let's gooooo!**

 **Hope you all enjoy! :)**

 **...**

" _First Years! First Years over here!"_

The deep, booming voice drowned out the mindless chatter of the crowd, and Frodo easily spotted the giant man, who stood several heads above all the other students and had brown hair that flared around his head before trailing down his back in a large mohawk shape. The man wore only a pair of brown pants and a bunch of leather straps that criss-crossed across his chest and contained a bunch of pockets and satchels.

"First Years! Over _here_!"

Hurriedly, Frodo grabbed Pippin and Merry's arms, who were attempting to put some gooey substance that he didn't even _want_ to know about in a random person's trunk, and dragged them towards the imposing figure. Sam followed like the good friend he was, ushering the two boys from behind.

(It was moments like these Frodo was especially glad to have a friend like Sam.)

They muddled through the crowds to stand in front of the giant man, and Frodo tilted his head back and waited for instructions. The man glanced down, his yellow eyes almost luminous in the light of the lantern, and nodded once in greeting. Then he went back to hollering at the top of his lungs.

Once all the first years were gathered together, the giant moved one muscular arm in a _follow me_ gesture and started his way down to the lake, the large lantern swinging to and through as he walked.

The young students followed behind, looking much like a swarm of ducklings as they followed behind their mother.

The man led them to a bunch of sturdy wooden boats, and grumbled out the instructions.

"Each boat holds four people. No More. Don't put your fingers or things in the water, and don't be too loud. Any questions?"

The words were soft and deep, and not particularly bossy or menacing, but all the first years stayed silent nonetheless, terrified of the imposing man that towered above them all.

"Good. Now get into the boats."

They got into the boats.

Frodo started in shock as they started to move the moment everyone was seated, smoothly gliding into the water without so much as a word from the giant, who sat alone at the head of the group.

Then his attention was drawn away by Pippin and Merry, who were very purposely putting their hands in the water and swishing them back and forth.

He and Sam managed to wrangle the two mischievous boys back into sitting position, but he was distracted from scolding them when the school came into view.

The building was utterly ginormous, a castle standing tall and strong upon the hill. It's towers pierced the sky, and windows glowed with a soft golden light from within. It was truly a sight to behold, and Frodo tried to comprehend the fact that he was going to go to school in that very building.

He grinned excitedly at his companions, and they grinned back.

 _They were going to Hogwarts!*_

* * *

They were standing in a closet.

A very large closet that was renovated to no longer look like a closet, and was, in fact, not a closet, and only felt like a closet, but a closet nonetheless. (At least, Frodo was calling it one.)

He was hungry, and a bit tired, and stuffed into a _closet_ with a bunch of other tired and hungry students like tuna stuffed in a can. He felt he had the right to be a bit cranky.

They had been there for several minutes- waiting for the raven-haired man, who had introduced himself as Professor Elrond, to return- when suddenly a small commotion grabbed his attention.

Curious, Frodo abandoned his friends in order to get a closer look.

"So, your Aragorn King? My father told me you might be coming to school this year."

The words were angry, a little mocking, and just a bit snide. Frodo frowned, not only because the speaker was being rude, but because he was sure he had the name Aragorn King before…**

"Yes."

The word was soft, distant, as if the speaker wasn't even paying attention, as if he didn't really care. But there was glint of steel in the tone, and it ruined the effect.

At this point, Frodo managed to get the two figures in his sight. On one side there was a tall, well-built boy with rusty red hair. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his fists were clenched.

On the other side, stood another tall boy- though this one was more lean than muscular- and his dark hair hanged shaggily around his head. He was looking at the other straight in the eye, his own grey orbs strangely intense, and had an almost casual demeanor, as if the two were discussing the weather.

But his shoulders were tensed, as if expecting a blow, and Frodo highly doubted he felt as comfortable as he looked.

"Well I just want to tell-"

"Don't. We're not interested. C'mon Aragorn, let's go."

A new soft voice interrupted the ginger, one with a slight accent, and Frodo's gaze snapped to the owner. **

It was a blonde with oddly long hair, which was neatly braided behind his ears, and who was slightly shorter than the other two. He was incredibly pale, though not in a sickly manner, and his eyes were a piercing blue.

"Ooh! Looks like Aragorn's got himself a girlfri-"

The blonde's head snapped to the owner of the voice- a ginger-haired boy that was couple inches shorter than almost everyone else in the room, though not Frodo himself- and the icy orbs blazed with a simmering anger. ***

The very temperature of the room seemed to drop.

The redhead's mouth snapped shut with a very audible click.

The blonde turned his head back to the shaggy-haired boy- _Aragorn_ , Frodo reminded himself- with an obvious smirk upon his lips, and the boy's face flushed heavily enough to match his bright red hair.****

Shaggy-haired boy- _Aragorn, Frodo, Aragorn!_ \- seemed to disagree with the scary-glaring boy though, as he resisted the blonde's gentle tugs on his arm and stayed put.

"No, Legolas, it's fine. What would you like to say, Boromir?"

Boromir- the first redhead, Frodo assumed- opened his mouth in order to tell just what he thought, but he was interrupted again by another voice.

"Alright, children, we're ready for you."

Professor Elrond was at the door.

His keen eyes were upon the argumentative boys, a single eyebrow raised in a reprimanding manner, and the four quickly bowed their heads, whether from shame or embarrassment Frodo didn't know.

Before he could find out, however, a hand was on his arm and tugging him away.

"There you are, Frodo! We were lookin for ya!"

"Yeah, Sam just about had a heart attack when he realized you were gone!"

After enduring Sam's tight hug and the ensuing scoldings, and after promising that he would tell where he was going next time, they trailed after the long snake of students that were following Professor Elrond to the dining hall.*****

When they entered the grand space, Frodo couldn't help but tilt his head back and stare at the nonexistent ceiling, where a sky filled with stars twinkled back at him. After several moments, he turned his gaze to the Teacher's table, and searched for Bilbo.

Bilbo caught his eye, giving him an excited smile as he walked further into the room.

He crowded into the walkway between the tables with everybody else and looked up expectantly at Professor Elrond, who stood at the front of the room next to an old flappy hat, a large scroll in hand.

It was because of this he jumped a bit when the hat started to sing.******

 _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _if you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folks use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Everyone cheered when the song was finished, and Frodo enthusiastically joined in.

Once everything had died down, Professor Elrond drew the attention to himself again.

"When I call your name, please come forwards. I shall put the Sorting Hat on your head, and it shall place you in your house, which will be either Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw."

As he spoke, he gestured to each of the tables in turn, showing the first years where the houses sat. Then he unrolled the scroll and smiled a small smile.

"Let's begin, shall we? Abbott, Hannah!"

A young girl edged her ways forward to the front of the line and sat down, peering nervously upwards as the brown cloth was lowered down upon her head. There was a few moments of silence, and then suddenly the hat's cloth mouth ripped open once more.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

It continued on like this, student after student, and he politely clapped for everyone as they got sorted. He had known what was going to happen- Bilbo had told him all about his own sorting- but he was still anxious for it to be over and done with.

"Baggins, Frodo!"

Frodo gave Sam, Merry, and Pippin his best encouraging smile and weaved his way through the crowd of students. Then he sat down on the stool and watched as the faces of his peers vanished behind folds of brown.

 _Hmmm…_

Frodo didn't jump at the voice in his head, but it was a near thing. He had expected it, but there was something unsettling about having something poking around and speaking into his mind.

 _Very brave, but not incredibly adventurous. Loyal, yes… definitely loyal, but practical too. You will get things done, won't you? Stubborn little fella, just like your Uncle Bilbo…_

He started, looking upwards even though the conversation was held inwards, and his eyes widened.

 _You know my Uncle?_

 _Hmmm, oh yes, of course I do, sorted him too. He did well. Intelligent? Yes, but not incredibly so, and not too terribly cunning… I guess I'll have to put you in_ HUFFLEPUFF!

Frodo beamed, clambering down the stool and walking towards the cheering table, accepting the many handshakes and Hello! 's and one-armed hugs sent his way. He waved at Bilbo, who sat beaming at the head table, and then looked to the hat once more, eager to see if his friends would join him.

After several other children, it was Merry's turn.

He walked up to the front with a confident hop in every step, and once he got there he gave a friendly salute to the mass of students- making them laugh- before his eyes disappeared behind the hat.

Several minutes of awkward silence passed before the tear in the cloth opened once more, releasing a single, almost exasperated, word.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Merry tore the hat off his head and skipped to the table, plopping down next to Frodo with a triumphant smile.

At his questioning glance, Merry smiled all the brighter, a truly evil glint in his eye.

"He thought I might do good in Ravenclaw, but I didn't want to cause it looks like they like homework and homework is boring, so I annoyed him until he let me come here instead!"

Frodo laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement, applauding as another student got sorted into Slytherin.

Trust his cousin to somehow manage to annoy an inanimate object.

But really, what else had he expected.?

* * *

"Durinson, Gimli!"

Gimli looked up from his wand, which he had been fiddling with to pass the time, and sauntered up to the stool. He wasn't nervous. Or anxious. Or worried. Or bloody terrified that he was about to be sorted _and what if his house disappoints Kili and Fili and the rest of his famil-_

No, not any of those things.

( _Not at all…_ )

He sat down on the stool, and the hat had barely touched the top of his head when sound imploded from its cloth mouth.

"GRYFFINDOR!" *****

He grinned and put the hat back down on the chair, rushing to sit next to his cousins who were cheering ridiculously loud. Once he got there, they slapped him on the back proudly and introduced him to the surrounding students, who all greeted him enthusiastically.

His adrenaline and joy still running high, he spotted a golden head amidst the crowds left to be sorted.

He smirked, because he highly doubted that the boy who had embarrassed him could go anywhere except Slytherin, stuck up and pompous as he was.

 _Beat that, Blondie..._

* * *

Sam nervously headed towards the hat, his steps faltering and hesitant.

Despite Pippin's encouraging thumbs up and the way Frodo and Merry were silently cheering him on, he still felt worried and anxious.

What if the hat couldn't sort him? What if he was just so weird and strange that the hat couldn't put him _anywhere_!

He bit his lip.

Slowly he sat down, closing his eyes as he felt the first brush of fabric against his hair.

The hat didn't get any farther than that.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

His eye popped open, and a brilliant smile started to form upon his lips. Hurriedly, he took off the hat and gently placed it back onto the stool. Then he practically ran to the Hufflepuff table and sat next to Frodo, bypassing all the other offered seats without a second thought.

When he got there, Frodo gave him a hug and a small, teasing grin.

"Wasn't so bad after all, huh?"

Sam smiled back, though it was more relieved than anything else.

"No, it wasn't so bad after all…"

* * *

Boromir swiped sweat off his palms when he heard his name, and walked to the front of the line with as much confidence as possible.

(He was nervous, didn't mean he had to show it.)

He sat down on the stool, watching with a scowl as the hat covered his vision.

He didn't like being unable to see.

 _Your a complicated one, aren't you?_

Boromir jumped and resisted the urge to tear the hat off and throw it to the ground. What on _earth_ was that hat doing in his _head?_

 _Don't worry, don't worry, just having a little look. Hmmm, I see that you have no shortage of bravery. Not too bad when it comes to the brains either. Oh, ooh, but you're desperate. You would do almost anything to please your father… Hmm?_

As the hat rambled on and on, Boromir's scowl got darker and darker.

 _Don't be getting all angry. I say it as I see it. Now where to put you..._

 _Gryffindor._

 _What?_

Boromir's lips twitched at the hat's confusion, but repeated the thought again, this time with more force.

 _Gryffindor_. _Put_ _me in Gryffindor._

…

 _Please_.

The hat was silent for a few moments, and he started to fear that the hat would disregard his wish all together.

But then it spoke, and it made Boromir scowl once more.

 _You could be great in Slytherin, you know… You have it all. The ambition. The power. The goals. You could go far, be the best, if you so wanted…_

For a moment the thoughts played through his head, and he wondered… But then he batted it all away and repeated himself once more, making sure to firmly emphasize every syllable.

 _Gry_ _ffin_ _dor_.

 _If that's what you want, who am I to disagree? I guess that puts you in_ GRYFFINDOR!

He slumped in relief and walked to the table amidst the cheers, nodding and smiling to his new housemates as he did so.

He could do this. _He could do this_. He could.

Really.

 _He could._

(If he could just ignore the voices that were whispering in his head…)

 _No, you can't…_

* * *

Legolas smiled and applauded as another person got sorted, although he was confused as to why anyone was getting sorted at all.

In Beauxbatons, no one was separated, except by the year you entered, and even then sometimes different years of students were mingled to do an activity together.

The idea of separating everyone, making different teams within one school seemed oddly… wrong.

 _Foreign._

Wouldn't it cause rifts between the different houses? Wouldn't it affect how everyone interacts with one another? Mess up the school's sense of... oneness?

He shrugged it off; Hogwarts was weird.*******

"Greenleaf, Legolas!"

He smiled brightly when he heard his name, skipping up to the front and waiting for the hat to be placed on his head like all the others.

The moment his eyes were covered by the brown material he tentatively pushed a thought around his head.

 _Hello?_

 _Hello_.

Legolas grinned, both because he was right about the hat talking mentally and because he was mentally talking to a hat, which was pretty awesome in his mind.

And weird.

But Hogwarts was weird in general so he'd let it go.

 _Now that you're done with that, shall we get around to the sorting?_

The hat sounded rather amused… Odd. Legolas wondered why, but didn't bother to ask; he was far too eager to see how the hat would sort him.

 _Plenty of courage, and plenty of bravery, I see. Good heart, good mind. Very loyal, very, very curious. You just want to know about everything and anything, don't you? Hmm… I guess your thirst for knowledge must puts you in_ RAVENCLAW!

Legolas smiled, said a quiet thank you to the hat, and placed it down on the chair. Than he wondered to the Ravenclaws and beamed happily at them as they cheered. On his way there, he caught Aragorn's eye and gave him an encouraging look and a thumbs up, which the boy weakly returned.

Sitting down, Legolas wondered at his new friend's anxiety. It was strange how nervous he was for his sorting, because in the end it didn't matter, right? It was just like being sorted into different classes, right?

(They could still be friends, _right?_ )

Yes, he was the grandson of some evil man or another- Aragorn had been very sure to point this out to him when the blonde had called themselves friends, as if expecting him to suddenly change his mind at the information- but that didn't really matter to Legolas. It wasn't as if Aragorn had done those crimes himself, he was just unfortunate enough in being related to him.

At least, that was how he saw it.

Would the rest of the students see it the same way?

He scanned the faces of his fellow peers, trying to discern what made them tick, but had no such luck.

 _He didn't know._

Legolas sighed, turning his eyes to the front as another person got sorted into Ravenclaw and clapping along with the rest of his housemates as the girl joined them, happy for a new possible friend but still confused on the way the school worked.

He sighed again.

Hogwarts was weird.

* * *

When Aragorn's name was called, the hall went silent.

Internally, he was cringing and resisting the urge to run and hide, but he tried to look brave and confident on the outside, if only to make his friend and his family feel reassured. (Whether or not he succeeded was another matter entirely.)

He made his way through the other first-years, who quickly cleared a path for him, and walked to the front. He felt all the eyes needling into his skin, but he refused to look at them. Refused to give them the satisfaction.

And then the whispers started. They were quiet at first, but then they got louder and louder. Loud enough that he could hear some of the words.

"Aragorn King? Like the grandson of Isildur?"

"Why'd they even let him in, isn't he dangerous?"

"He's a traitor. They need to get rid of him right now. Don't they know what Isildur did?"

He blocked out most of it, though, because he didn't really want to hear.

By the time he got to the front, he was near tears- _He had been right, he had been right_ all along _, and he shouldn't have even come because it was such a_ stupid _idea, and why was he such an_ idiot _and how did he ever think that this year could even be_ remotely _okay?_ \- but he wouldn't let them fall, not a single one, because that would make him weak. _Pathetic_.

The whispers continued on.

Suddenly, there was a clear ringing through the hall, and the hushed words went silent. Aragorn looked up, and he spotted the headmaster of the school- _Gandalf_ , he reminded himself- put down his spoon, which he had been gently knocking against his crystal goblet.

The wizard's face was set into a frown, and anger seemed to radiate off him in pulsing waves. Aragorn's face fell, because this was it, this was where the man was going to stand up and announce to the whole school that he was unwelcome here, that he needed to leave _right_ _now_ because Hogwarts didn't harbor traitors and evil people like him.

Instead, the wizened man met his eyes and gave him a wink, a small almost-there smile upon his face.

He didn't know why, but it made him feel just a bit better.

There was still complete silence, and it wasn't much better than the whisperings, but he would take what was given.

He sat down heavily on the chair, opting not to look at the sea of faces in front of him but instead at his father, who gave his own encouraging smile- His eyebrows were furrowed, though, which meant he was upset. Aragorn wondered why...- before gently placing the hat upon the child's head.

 _Hmmm, Isildur's heir, huh? The question now is, however, where should I put you…_

Aragorn didn't know why he did it. Why the sudden desperate urge overwhelmed him, but there it was. He could not go into Slytherin. He _couldn't_. He _wouldn't_ go there, not like his grandfather. He needed as much distance between himself and his Isildur as possible.

Perhaps he should have said Ravenclaw, where his brothers were, where his adoptive father was Head of the House, where Legolas was. (The blonde seemed to be the only non-related person in the whole wide world who didn't care at all who he was related to.)

But he didn't. He _didn't_.

Instead he thought different words, ones that would prove everyone wrong. All of Elrond's guest who stared at him with disbelief and anger, all the students who judged him without knowing him, Boromir, who tried to bully him just because of who he was related to.

He would prove them _all_ wrong.

 _Gryffindor. Put me in Gryffindor._

Because Gryffindor and Slytherin were opposites, right? They didn't get along. They were the difference between one for all and all for one. They were enemies. And Aragorn could be an enemy of Slytherin. Could be an enemy of his grandfather.

(He would wonder, later, if this was what his father has thought when he had the hat upon his head. He would wonder if Arathorn had spontaneously decided to be Gryffindor as well. He would wonder if he had done his blood-father proud.)

The hat stayed silent for several long seconds which seemed to stretch for several years. Aragorn feared that he would be ignored, but then the voice spoke in his mind once more.

 _Very well, then. If you're sure._

 _I am._

"GRYFFINDOR!"

There was no cheers greeting Aragorn when he pulled the hat off, only a polite smattering of quiet applause. Except for Legolas and his family, who cheered with all the enthusiasm given for everyone else, despite the weird looks they received for it.

He made sure to flash them a smile.

He quietly sat down at the table, pretending not to notice his blatant stares sent his way. And then he turned to the front, biting his lip in quiet determination not to break out crying.

(Whether crying implied yelling in frustration or crying tears he didn't know.)

Aragorn waited and waited, and eventually some kid named Peregrin Took drew the attention off himself when he cartwheeled up to the front and the gave an exaggerated bow once he got there. He got sorted into Hufflepuff, and Aragorn made sure to cheer extra loud for him.

And later, as he ate in a silent bubble- everyone at the table seemed determined not to talk to him- he caught Gandalf's eye once more.

The man gave another almost-there smile, and this time, Aragorn attempted to smile back.

 **...**

 **There you are my friends, all done and dusted! Any grammar help would be deeply appreciated, as well as any other advice or comments that might be given. :)**

 **Notes:**

 ***** Who can guess who the man was?

 ****** Don't be mad at Boromir. Just... Don't. He's a kid whose been raised to hate Islidur, and everything that has to do with him. And perhaps Boromir should have been more open minded, but it's also hard to forget a whole childhood's worth of hate.

 ******* Legolas has inherited his Ada's glare... :)

 ******** And so Gimli and Legolas' reign of constant fighting has begun! (Also, Gimli keeps getting very little attention. I'm sorry Gimli!)

 ********* Sam would be the worst worrywart/mother-hen in the history of worrywarts/mother-hens

 ********** I took this directly from the book, cause I'm not original or creative at all and I deserve no credit for it. The only reason I put it in at all is cause it always annoys me when the singing was left out in other fanfics I've read and I didn't want to be hypocritical.

 *********** As a person with personal experience, it can be really weird finding yourself in a completely new culture. Don't worry though, Legolas will adjust soon enough...

 **That was a lot. Sorry...**

 **To SelarahMorgan and Andy the willow tree, who reviewed the last chapter, THANK YOU! YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST!**

 **Alrighty, now for the important stuff: Why did I choose the houses that I chose? Here's your info:**

 **The hobbits:** Hobbits are basically Hufflepuffs, guys. They're practical, they're loyal, they value hard work and good friends. (They are highly underestimated...) I did briefly consider having Merry and/or Frodo in Ravenclaw, especially Merry, but in the end they all went into Hufflepuff because I thought it fit their personalities better.

 **Boromir:** I read a headcanon once that to get into Gryffindor you had to ask, or want it or something. Or that the Sorting Hat would put you somewhere if you asked for it. I don't know the specifics, but it was along those lines. This sort of shows up here, with Boromir. Because he _is_ brave and courageous, he does seek glory for himself and his companions. And maybe the adult Boromir would go into Slytherin, because he would do anything to complete his goal in saving Gondor, but this is a young kid who is not corrupted by the Ring and is not in such a desperate situation. And he asked, and so now he's in Gryffindor.

 **Aragorn:** Same idea as Boromir, though I honestly think that he could go into Ravenclaw too. He's certainly intelligent enough. But again, he asked, and so he went **.**

 **Legolas:** In this fic, I'm going to put almost all elves in Ravenclaw. Because in Ravenclaw, your smart. You think out your moves before you act. Your not rash and burning in a brilliant flash, but a slow and steady light. You see the big picture of things. (At least, that's my take on it) That idea just really seems to match elves for me. The reason Legolas is in Ravenclaw though, is cause he's curious. Soo very curious. He want's to know about everything and anything, just like the hat said, because he's pretty much been locked up for his entire life. That insatible thirst for knowledge just screams RAVENCLAW!

 **Gimli:** In my opinion, Gimli is like the definition of Gryfindoorness. He's brave and brash and ready to fight before he's ready to think. He's got a good heart and a proud character, and he's just very Gryfindoor to me...

 **To all you people who think I dislike Slytherin or think their evil, I will say this: LIES! Slytherin is cool in my mind, and I totally respect the house. I just don't think that any of the Nine really fit there...**

 **None of them are super cunning, or incredibly ambitious, and even Boromir, who is most likely to be in Slytherin, who will sacrifice everything for his goals, had goals that were for a majority, not just himself. They just didn't fit right for me, and so this is how they worked out. Also, these characters are going to be a little different from the ones we love and know, cause they grew up different and live a different life.**

 **Disagree with my choices? Want me to go more in depth about my decisions? Sent me a review and I'll be happy to listen to your opinions or tell you about mine. :) (To all guests: if you send something in I will answer it in the next chapter.)**

 **I have decided to attempt to extend this fic longer! It shall become a full-fledged story, and will be updated about once a week, or so, depends on schoolwork. I hope everyone is enjoying it so far!**

 **Till next time!**

 **-The Mashpotatoe Queen**


	4. Of Dreaded Eyebrows and New Friends

**Hello, my peeps! I have arrived with a new chapter, and I'm early too!**

 **This fic is written in honor of Andy the willow tree. Everyone should praise this fantabulous person, for this person is AWESOME! :D**

 **I'm pretty sure I don't have to mention this, but I will anyway, just in case. This chapter contains a minor injury, but it's very vaguely described and there's no blood. :)**

 **Hope everyone enjoys, thanks for reading Of Letters and Fellowships and Everything In Between!**

 **...**

Pippin dashed through the maze of hallways and stairs as fast as he could, the reassuring thump of Merry' feet sounding behind him.

They were late. _Again_.

They swerved around one last corner and Pippin couldn't help but give a shout of triumph when he spotted the transfiguration classroom. They had finally found the right place, after the dozens of misdirections and navigation mistakes. Flashing a smile Merry's way, he ran the last few feet and burst through the doors, his friend right behind him.

At their dramatic entrance, forty heads swiveled around to have a look before turning back to their desks, muffled chuckles escaping closed lips.

Pippin probably would have laughed at the perfect unison, but he was too busy staring at the front of the classroom, where certain doom lay.

Professor Elrond raised an eyebrow, somehow making the simple action the most terror-inspiring thing in the entire universe.

Pippin gulped, cringing slightly.

Merry was sighing next to him, and then his hand was grabbed and he was being dragged unwillingly forward. The younger scowled, tossing a glare at the back of the elder's head, which went unnoticed.

Pippin shrugged; he tried.

Nervously, the two youths came to a stop in front of the professor.

"Late again, Mr. Brandybuck, ?

Pippin offered a sheepish smile, and Merry attempted to make a reasonable excuse.

"Sorry sir, we, uh, got lost again…"

It _was_ true, they _had_ gotten lost on their way to the classroom, but it wasn't the _complete_ truth. They may or may not have woken up late as well…

But Professor Elrond didn't need to know that.

The wizard was raising an eyebrow again, and Pippin resisted the urge to either cower or run out of the room. The rest of the students had broken down into laughter once more, but he couldn't bring himself to care, because the _eyebrow_.

 _The eyebrow was freaking terrifying_ _._ *

Pippin managed to speak up, his voice rather higher than he was used to.

"The staircases _move_ , sir, it's hard to know how to get around!"

For a few moments more the transfiguration teacher stayed silent, watching as the two young pupils in front of him tried and failed to meet his eyes, but then he sighed.

"I trust you will not get lost finding your seats?

Pippin shook his head, feeling Merry mimic his actions as he did so. Then they both dashed to the empty desks at the front of the room.

Elrond sighed, shaking his head and mumbling about how it had already been _three weeks_ , and then flicked his wand at the levitating chalk, which started writing on the board once more.

Pippin and Merry traded grins; they were safe from getting in trouble.

At least, for now…

* * *

Boromir couldn't help but chuckle when the two Hufflepuffs were late again. It was as if those two _wanted_ to get in trouble with Professor Elrond, who appeared to be more and more exasperated after every tardie.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when one of the said Hufflepuffs nudged him on the shoulder.

He shot his fellow first year- _Pippin, he was pretty sure his name was Pippin_ \- a questioning glance.

The curly-haired boy offered a sheepish grin, and- making sure that Elrond was not paying attention- quietly whispered into his ear.

"Sorry for botherin' ya, but me and Merry don't have the notes. Can we copy yours?

Boromir saw no harm in it, and so he passed his parchment to the two trouble makers, nodding silently as he did so.

Pippin flashed him a grin, before hurriedly copying down the words, his partner in crime doing the same next to him.

After a few minutes, his parchment was handed back with a quiet yet enthusiastic pair of, _Thank you_ 's and grateful smiles, and Boromir was forced to quickly write down the new notes on the board before they were erased.

But not before he gave the boys his own grin, a quiet, _Your welcome_ , and a layout for a new friendship that would last for years to come.

( _He hoped._ )

* * *

By the time Potions began, the lingering happiness Boromir had felt in Transfiguration class had worn off.

The reason for his rapidly declining mood was sitting next to him, studiously taking notes and acting for all the world that he was an utterly normal boy.

But Boromir knew better. He _knew_. This boy was the descendant of one of the worst men in the world. His grandfather had betrayed everyone. _Everyone_. This boy's grandfather had destroyed lives, killed thousands, was evil. This boy's grandfather was the reason his father was so _bitter_.

And this boy was probably just like his grandfather, a rotten egg. Someone trying to gain your trust just so he can stab you in he back and rip your life to shreds.

(No matter that he was quoting his father, no matter that Boromir's father was an angry old man who was normally wrong about such things. For surely, _surely_ , his father was right about _this_ _._...)

Boromir shot another glare at Aragorn, but the other boy ignored it yet again.

He humphed; the least the boy could do was properly respond to his glares.

They were, after all, assigned to the same project.

(Deep down- _deep, deep_ , deep _down_ \- he knew that it wasn't Aragorn's fault that they were partners. That it was Professor Dwalin's. But he was cranky, and so his mind somehow made _everything_ the other boy's doing.)

Suddenly, there was a whir of motion as students went to gather ingredients and take out cauldrons and scales. The loud booming voice of Professor Dwalin- which had somehow become background noise as Boromir fumed- had stopped, and he realized that he had no idea what potion they were even making.

Boromir scowled, glancing down at his empty paper and then back up to the professor, who was watching the children absentmindedly while he chopped off pieces of apple and popped them in his mouth with a very long, sharp knife.

The potion master's tattooed skull glinted in the soft light of the candles, and his eyes met Boromir's.

The ginger ducked his head, his cheeks flushing at being caught, and tried to remember the barely heard instructions. He needed to do this right; he was already falling behind in potions and he didn't want _another_ failed attempt.

"Boil Cure."

Boromir started, breaking his angry staring contest with the parchment and looking up.

Aragorn King looked back, a slightly resigned expression on his face.

"Boil Cure, that's the potion were assigned to make."

He blinked once, but then he scowled.

"I knew that."

(He didn't.)

Aragorn gave him a look, one that clearly said _I don't believe you_ , but kept silent, instead sliding his notes over so that the redhead could see the neatly written instructions.

"I'll get the ingredients, and you can chop them. Is that okay?"

Mutely, Boromir nodded.

Aragorn sent something akin to a smile his way.

"Should we use your scales? Or mine?"

He flushed, embarrassed. The other boy was surely doing this just to humiliate him, to make fun of him. But still, it seemed that the other knew what he was doing, and he needed all the help he could get, and so he managed to ground out an answer.

"Yours. Mine are a little broken…"

Aragorn nodded, taking the words into stride and not giving a single comment, simply taking out the tool and placing it onto the counter.

"Okay, We'll use your cauldron though, if you don't mind, mine's still stinks from that explosion. The smell won't go away."

Boromir smiled, because that had been a good day. Some student- he couldn't remember the name- had placed a jinx on Aragorn's pot, causing the whole thing to explode and a rancid stench to fill the room. Professor Dwalin had scolded Aragorn in front of the entire class, and everyone had gotten a good laugh back in the common room. The best part was that the victim didn't even know that his cauldron had been jinxed!

But then he looked at the other boy's face, and realized there was something accusing and hurt in those grey eyes, and the smile dropped off of his face.

Perhaps Aragorn had known after all…

And if that was the case, Boromir honestly didn't know what to feel, because that would mean that Aragorn had kept quiet about the blatant cruelty, even though he had nothing to lose by telling.

He didn't bother trying to sort out his suddenly raging thoughts though. Instead, the ginger nodded and started to take out his large black cauldron.

By the time he had everything sorted, Aragorn was back with all the ingredients. They worked silently together, with only the occasional interruption from the other boy when he corrected Boromir on a mistake.

(He did not correct Boromir on his biggest mistake though, the one where he had let someone play a cruel joke on a fellow house member and simply stood back and __laughed_._ )

When time was up, their potion was spewing pink smoke that rose steadily out of the pot. Both of them were smiling triumphantly and Aragorn offered to carry the phial of potion up to the front and then help him clean up once he returned. He had nodded absentmindedly- _unthinkingly_ \- and had gotten to work.**

He had honestly not expected a leg to come out into the aisle and trip the other boy, causing Aragorn to fall down heavily and the boiling hot potion to splatter all over him.

The boy hissed in pain, immediately attempting to swipe off the liquid from his bare arms. Professor Dwalin leapt _over_ his desk and was helping Aragorn up, guiding him over to a sink where he could run the burnt skin under cold water and help soothe the pain.

The other children were muffling chortles at the other's predicament- _Because he deserved it. Because he wasn't a boy, not really, but a villain. Because it was fine, for they were beating up someone evil, they were saving the day..._ \- and perhaps Boromir would have joined them if he had not learned what he had learned.

Already, he could hear Aragorn's quiet words- insisting that it was an accident and that he was just terribly clumsy- and he felt sick.***

Because even if this was all just a ploy to make people trust him or pity him or all that, Boromir had seen the suppressed tears in the grey eyes. Whether it was from the pain or the humiliation or the hurt at being treated in such an inhumane way he didn't know, but the ginger suspected that it was a bit of everything.

And what kind of Gryffindor was he, if he let a fellow Gryffindor down in such a way? What kind of Gryffindor was he, if he'd let others be cruel to someone and just laugh at it? _What kind of Gryffindor was he_ , if he turned his back on those who needed his help and left them to suffer all alone?

A quiet voice answered inside of his head, soft and almost not there at all.

 _No kind of Gryffindor at all._

Professor Dwalin had wrapped up the injuries- his large, calloused, scarred hands surprisingly gentle- and was gruffly giving Aragorn instructions to visit the healing ward after class. The boy nodded, his hair hiding his bowed head, and started back to the desk, seemingly unaware of the quiet chuckles and insults that followed him.

(The ginger knew that he was really just ignoring them, though. He knew.)

Slowly, using his newly bandaged hands, Aragorn filled a second phial.

He blinked, realizing that they hadn't actually turned in their potion yet, and then frowned, because he knew what was going to happen.

They were going to trip him again, and again Aragorn would say that he was just clumsy, and again everyone was going to mock him, and again and again and again….

It was then Boromir came to a decision.

Gently, he reached out and touched the other boy on the shoulder. Aragorn started, looking up at Boromir with wide eyes, and he was suddenly painfully reminded of his brother.

"Here, uh, let me take that. I'll bring it up to the front."

 _I'm sorry._

Aragorn stared at him, long and hard. His eyes were like smoldering ashes, bright and intense, but Boromir met them evenly.

He wouldn't be a traitor, not anymore. Not to his house, not to his housemates, and not to Aragorn King.

Because he deserved a chance. The grey-eyed boy deserved _a chance_ , at the very least, and Boromir had every intention of giving him one.

Finally, after what seemed an age, the phial of potion was handed over. He took it gingerly, trying for a smile.

Aragorn gave a small smile back.

"Alright... thank you."

 _I forgive you._

"It's no problem, really."

With that, Boromir walked up to the front. There was no laughter or attempted trippings, simply wide-eyed expressions of confusion.

He ignored them.

When he got to the desk he placed the phial in front of the Potion's Master, as was instructed, but before he could leave again, Professor Dwalin spoke up, his thick eyebrows furrowed.

"Take care of your friend, will ya? He looks like he needs it."

Boromir opened his mouth to say that Aragorn King was _not_ his friend, that Aragorn King never was and never _would be_ his friend, but then his jaw snapped shut. Instead, he nodded and walked back to his table in order to finish cleaning up.

And after class, instead of wondering off with all the other students, he jogged after Aragorn and started walking besides him.

"What are you doing?"

The other boy was looking at him now, his eyebrow raised in a way that looked eerily similar to Professor Elrond.

He tried for another smile, and was pleased that this one came much more easily than the last.

"I was wondering if I could walk with you to the Healing Ward? To keep ya company?"

 _Friends?_

There was a moment of silence, the only sound being their quiet footsteps and the muffled chatter of the other students. But then Aragorn glanced at Boromir, a smile of his own playing on his lips.

"Sure."

 _Friends._

 **...**

 **And that's the end of this chapter, folks! :D**

 **Notes:**

 ***** EVERYONE RUN FOR THEIR LIVES! THE EYEBROW OF DOOM IS UPON US! I'm sorry, I couldn't resist... :)

 ****** Boil Cure Potion, when made correctly, makes pink smoke.

 ******* Why was Aragorn not telling about the bullying? Because he wants to fit in. He wants to be treated fairly, yes, but what could he do? If he told on them then everyone would dislike him even _more_ for getting them into trouble. Should he have told? Maybe. But he didn't. It can be hard to know, sometimes, what to do in these kind of situations...

 **Originally, this chapter was going to be quite a bit longer. It included flying lessons with Gimli and Legolas, and they were going to be show offs and be in a rivalry. However, I really liked the ending, and so I stopped it at this point. Hopefully, you all can forgive me of depriving you of our favorite dwarf and elf...**

 **Big fat THANK YOU to Andy the willow tree and SelarahMorgan, who are my lovely loyal reviewers! You guys rock!**

 **To all you other people who are reading this and not reviewing I must give you a sad face, because I am sad. :( I respect your decision however, and will survive with the thought that you took the time to read this at all. Thank you! :)**

 **Until next time! Bye!**

 **-The Mashpotatoe Queen**

 **PS: I love you guys. You all are awesome! Don't let anyone _ever_ tell you otherwise.**


	5. And So They Watched In Silence

***Crawls out from beneath a rock***

 **Uh... hi?**

 **I'M SO SORRY IT'S BEEN TEN DAYS!**

 **I have a lot of reasons though, so please don't hate me too much... I won't bother explaining them though, I'll just give this:**

 **Computer Troubles**

 **School**

 **Family**

 **That's all I say...**

 **I write this story in honor of the lovely Andy the willow tree. *bows in respect for the awesomeness that is Andy***

 **Anywho, here's your next super long chapter of Of Letters and Fellowships and Everything in Between I hope you like it! I even have the flying lessons, like promised!**

 **forgive me? please? :)**

 **...**

"ALRIGHT LADDIES! WHO'S READY FOR SOME FLYIN'!"

Gimli grinned when he heard Mr. Ironfoot's loud booming voice.

Dain Ironfoot was chortling merrily at the rest of the students reaction, his heavy red braids swinging around as he did so. Gimli had been one of the few students not to jump at the sudden appearance of the man, and he had to resist the urge to laugh along.

Everything the man did was loud and booming. He demanded the attention of whatever room he entered, and he made good use of it. Currently, he had the eyes of many students staring at him, and he offered them a full-tooth grin.

Gimli grinned back.

"WELL!? WHAT ARE YOU WAITIN' FOR!? STEP UP TO YOUR BROOMS!"

He did so, impatiently. He knew that a lot of the students weren't so amazing at riding broomsticks, but he had already mastered the skill long ago. He honestly didn't believe that he needed to sit through the dreary first year lesson.

But then again, he didn't mind _too_ bad if it meant he got to show up a certain blonde.

Said blonde was looking silently on at their instructor, looking almost as bored as Gimli felt.

But not for long, not if he had anything to say about it.

Glancing around, he noticed that everyone had gone silent and was listening to , and so he imitated him and drew his attention to the belted instructions, which all turned out to be very basic skills, such as _getting on your broom._

And really, who _didn't_ know how to do that?

Apparently, lots of people, and so Gimli offered them advice where he could, pointing out what they could possibly do to make their broom more responsive. He was met by grateful smiles by most, a few questions from others, and a few grumbling frowns by a select few.

Well, he couldn't please everyone.

After several minutes, he realized that the blonde had yet to mount his broom, and was turning away from his friend Aragorn. (Who Gimli _still_ didn't know how to feel about; Isildur was the cause of much loss for his family.)

And so he sauntered up to the Ravenclaw and _kindly_ offered his help.

(By kindly, he meant slightly mocking and rude, but it serves the blonde right for making a fool of a Durinson. No one did that and got away with it. _No one_ _._ )

"Oi! Blondie! Having broom troubles!? Need a bit of help!?"

The taller gave him a cold look, face set in stone.

"No thank you; I can manage _quite_ fine on my own."

With that, the Ravenclaw hopped onto his own broom and- with perfect stance- hovered a few feet into the air, offering an overly-sweet smile to Gimli once he was high enough.

"Of course, I would _gladly_ help you if you are in need of assistance."

Gimli scowled.

The blonde grinned and shot higher into the air.

Growling under his breath, he grabbed his own broomstick and shot into the air after him.

No pesky pompous jerk would get the better of Gimli Durinson! Not if _he_ had anything to say about it!

* * *

Half an hour later, everyone was more or less in the air, tentatively testing out the new freedoms flight could offer.

Except for Gimli and the blonde of course, they were far too busy trying to outshine each other.

(The blonde was good, he would admit that, but not as good as Gimli, not a chance!)

Dain Ironfoot watched from the ground, occasionally bellowing out instructions or advice whenever he saw a student make a mistake. He practically ignored the two rivals, only glancing at them from the corner of his eye every once in awhile.

Right after Gimli managed to do a triple roll on his broom, and right before the Ravenclaw could fail at doing something more awesome, the flying instructor called for all brooms to land so that he could explain the next activity.

The red-bearded man was going to throw balls at them. That was what Gimli got from the long overexaggerated explanation; the teacher was going to throw balls at them, fast and hard, and they were going to have to catch them.

Which, all things considered, could have been worse…

The rounds went fast; Mr. Ironfoot would chuck roughly fifty balls at the chosen victim and shout out random tidbits as he did so, being more confusing than helpful.

Before Gimli knew it, it was the Blonde's turn.

The Ravenclaw flew into the air and stayed utterly still, blue eyes fixed on the teacher the same way a hawk would watch it's prey.

And then the balls came.

It was a rapid blur of motion, far faster than the prior speeds of throwing; it appeared as if the elder wizard had taken more notice of their little excursions than Gimli had thought.

But the blonde… the blonde was catching them.

Yes, there were a few fumbled balls, but for the most part… for the most part the blonde was catching them. The professor threw them high and low and off in random directions, but the Ravenclaw somehow managed to maneuver himself quickly enough so that he was able to grab the balls out of the air.

Even Gimli could admit that his reflexes must have been truly _amazing_ to manage such a feat.

And then it was over and the blonde was back on the ground, panting slightly but not a hair out of place, and Aragorn- the traitor- was giving him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. The Ravenclaws were cheering at the excellent show, and more than a few were asking questions on his tactics and strategies.

Somehow, despite the attention and the dozen other people he was talking too, the blonde manages to steal away the time to approach Gimli, eyes soaring with adrenaline and a smile that oh-so-clearly said one thing.

 _Beat that!_

"Forty-three."

He blinked at the word.

"What?"

The blonde smiled again, although this one was slightly more condescending, and gestured to the dozens of balls.

"I caught forty-three, how well do you think _you'll_ do?"

Gimli scowled, staring up at the taller boy with venom in his eyes.

"Better than you, that's for sure!"

Then he marched right up to Dain Ironfoot and volunteered.

And he did well, very well, especially in comparison to most of the other first years. A score of thirty-four balls was something to be proud of.

 _But it wasn't good enough_ , and so Gimli felt no pride.

And later, after the lessons were over and everyone was heading back to their dormitories, the blonde managed to catch his eye.

He smiled, small and teasing and playful, but Gimli knew it for what it was.

A challenge.

 _And it was_ so _on.*_

* * *

Boromir looked down at his brother's letter once more, trying to draw inspiration from the neatly written- much more neat than his own untidy scrawl- words that were displayed across the scroll.

As promised, Boromir had kept up an avid correspondence with his younger sibling, always making sure to respond to Faramir's letters as soon as possible. The only problem was, however, the mounting schoolwork made his letter-writing time rather scarce and hard to come by.

Which was why he found himself attempting to write a coherent letter in the late into the night.

Tiredly, he rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear up his blurry vision, and went back to staring at the blank scroll.

There was no sudden flashes of inspiration or dazzling leaps of creativity, only an endless sea of cream colored parchment…

He jolted to awareness a minute later, only realizing he had fallen asleep when his head slipped off his hand and started him awake.

Perhaps… perhaps he should go to bed; he was no use to his brother if he couldn't even write properly.

But then the image of Faramir, alone and cold and sad, patiently waiting for his big brother to send a letter his way because he promised, flashed through his head, and Boromir could no longer bring himself to just head up to bed; Faramir was waiting for him, and he had made a promise.

(One does not simply break their promises, especially those made to younger siblings.)

(It is folly.)**

And so he stretched and yawned and went back to work.

Hours later, he woke up to someone lightly patting his shoulder, a soft voice, still scratchy from sleep, filtering through his ears.

"Boromir? Hey, Boromir, what are you even doing down here? Boromir? Wake up!"

When he at last managed to open his eyes, he realized that his candle and fluttered down to barely-there flame, and that his letter was finished, even if the writing was far more messy than usual.

Through the dim light, he was also able to see the outline of a dark figure standing next to him, one that had become familiar to him over the last few weeks.

"Aragorn?"

There was a glint of white as the brunette grinned in triumph, but the words that came next were still just as quiet.

"Yeah, its me. Mind telling me what you're doing out of bed?"

His friend was teasing him now, he could tell.

Not that he would let Aragorn know that.

"Ah, shut up… I just felt like getting some extra work done!"

It _was_ true… sort of.

"You fell asleep while writing to your brother again, didn't you?"

 _Yes._

"...No."

"Mhmmm…"

"You be quiet, Aragorn, or you won't like what's comin' to yah!"

Aragorn was muffling laughter now, hysterical at his attempt of an intimidating glare. Ah, but the brunette never laughed enough anyways, so Boromir would let him get away with it.

But not without a fight.

"That's it!"

There whispered conversation came to an end as the redhead jumped from his seat and made a grab for the other, bringing the brunette into a light-hearted noogie.

"Anything to say now, smartmouth?"

"Yes; this will hurt."

With that, Aragorn stomped his foot down Boromir's toe, causing him to release a- _very manly_ \- yelp, and escaped from his hold, dancing out of the ginger's reach.

The two boys roughhoused- quietly as possible, for it _was_ the middle of the night- until Aragorn suddenly came to a stop, his eyes fixed on the window.

"Aragorn?"

The brunette stayed silent, moving to stare through the glass panes without a word. He followed, trying to glimpse what the other had seen.

"Aragorn? What's wrong?"

After several more moments of silence, his fellow Gryffindor turned to him.

"Do you them?"

"See _what_? Honestly, Aragorn, sometimes you make no sen-"

He was interrupted by his friend's quiet voice.

"There are lights. In the forest; _look_."

And so he did.

It was hard to spot, at first, but he eventually managed to see the floating lights that swirled around the edge of the forest. They were of a soft green hue, and the bobbed up and down in strange movements, occasionally vanishing for a few moments before reappearing in a new location.

Boromir squinted, because he could almost see the vague outlines of shapes connected to the floating lights, dark forms of blackness which seemed gaping holes in the fabric of the universe.

They looked at each other, eyes wide.

"Do you think we should investigate?"

Aragorn looked appalled at the suggestion, leaning away from him with an incredulous look on his face.

"What!? No! Are you crazy? If we go out after dark and get caught…"

"Aw, come on, we won't get caught!"

"But-"

"Please?"

The brunette looked at him, his anxious features transforming into those of resignation. Boromir grinned; he knew he had won. (The other boy was far too curious for his own good.)

"Fine, with one condition."

He was getting a little impatient, but he managed the appropriate response anyways.

"Yes?"

"Legolas is coming with us."

"What!? You mean the Ravenclaw?"

Boromir wasn't so sure about the long-haired blonde that Aragorn hanged out with so much. Yes, the other was nice enough, but whenever the redhead came and joined them Legolas would give him a warning look, as if to say: _you hurt my friend, I hurt you_. ***

The worse part was that the glare was legitimately terrifying, and a reminder that while he had convinced Aragorn he wanted to be friends and had put aside his prejudices, he had yet to convince Legolas.

And then there was the fact that Legolas was a Ravenclaw, and Ravenclaws were always sticklers for rules.

And so, it was with best intentions in mind that he put his hand on his friend's shoulder and spoke his mind.

"Umm, you sure? What if he doesn't want to go to the Forbidden Forest? What if he tells on us?"

To his surprise, Aragorn simply snorted in response and then started laughing; Boromir was not amused.

"Something funny?"

The brunette looked up, mirth in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just, Legolas has probably been into the Forbidden Forest about a dozen times already."

"What!?"

Aragorn laughed once more at his expression, but quickly explained.

"You know the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Raggy- what was it again?"

"Professor Radagast?"

"Yeah, him. Anyways, Professor Radagast was going on about all the different creatures in the in the woods and Legolas was super excited about it and I'm pretty sure he keeps sneaking out in the middle of the night to find talking trees or something."

"Oh…"

And that was the only answer he could really give.

As they stepped out of the Gryffindor Common Room, Aragorn suddenly came to a stop. Then, he turned on the redhead and looked him straight in the eye, his face grave.

"Boromir, if we get caught, I'm going to kill you."

And then he continued on without a word.

And so that was how Boromir found himself scurrying through the darkened hallways of the Hogwarts castle in the middle of the night, ducking into random empty classrooms and small nooks and crannies whenever the sound of footsteps grew too near.

Eventually, after climbing up the large spiral staircase for what felt like forever, they arrived at the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common Room. There was no doorknob, no keyhole, and no obvious entrance, only a single bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. Boromir glanced at Aragorn, his eyebrows raised.

"How do we get in?"

The brunette shot him a sideways glance and reached out to the knocker.

"We knock."

The eagle came to life, and a new voice entered their conversation, causing him to jump a little in response.

 _"What has roots as nobody sees,_

 _Is taller than trees Up, up, up it goes,_

 _And yet never grows?_

Boromir stared at the door, mouth gaping in shock, before turning on Aragorn, shooting distrustful glances to the now silent eagle.

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?"

"It's a riddle. If you solve it, you can get in."

Boromir frowned.

"And if you don't?"

"Then you're stuck outside until someone lets you in…"

Boromir frowned harder.

"How do you know so much about Ravenclaw anyways?

"Legolas told me, now be quiet; I'm trying to think."

He wisely shut up, listening in silence as Aragorn quietly asked to hear the riddle again, and when Aragorn eventually seemed to come to a realization and proclaim the answer.

"A mountain? Is the answer a mountain?"

There was no response, only the door swinging open. Boromir gave his companion a high five, both cringing as the loud sound echoed through the corridors. But no one came, and so they entered the tower on tiptoe, sneaking in as criminals would in the deep dark night

Locating the blonde was easy enough, as was explaining their situation, but Boromir was surprised on just how readily their new companion silently jumped out of bed, changed clothes, and swept his hair back into a tight braid. But it was done in eerily sufficient ease, and before he knew it the blonde was leading them through a labyrinth of hallways to a portrait of large snowy mountains. Underneath the portrait was a gold-plaited sign, claiming the image a drawing of somewhere called Caradhras.

He was about to ask why Legolas had led them there when the blonde reached out with one pale finger and traced out an almost invisible path through the mountains. Suddenly, the softly falling snow in the image became a thick blizzard, and Boromir found himself shivering from the howling wind that began to batter the three students around.

And then there was silence, and all that remained from the freak storm was a mysterious chill that wasn't there before.

And instead of a mountain pass, there was a wall of white.

"C'mon!"

With that simple word, the blonde placed a hand on the painting and started to push through, the blank portrait seemingly melting away from his gentle touch.

And before the two Gryffindors knew it, Legolas had vanished from sight.

He shot a look at Aragorn- wondering just how the blonde had managed to find such a thing in the first place- but the brunette simply shrugged, apparently used to his friend's weirdness, and stepped into the painting as well.

Boromir was left behind in the hallway, alone and seriously reconsidering his decisions in life.

But, eventually, he too scrambled into the blank image, shivering as the cold assaulted him once more, and entered the gloomy passageway that waited beyond.

Behind him, the blizzard whirled across the portrait once more, leaving behind nothing but a still portrait of huge towering mountains and softly falling snow.

* * *

Boromir tried to get the blonde to open up on just how he had found the secret passage way, and -more importantly- if there were any more, but Legolas had this way of talking that made it near possible for him to complete his goal.

He'd start out by asking his question, his mind focused on prying out an answer, and things always seemed to be going well.

And then he would blink and somehow find himself discussing his views on Muggles or how his father sometimes snored so loud he could hear it through the wall, never knowing how he came to be talking about such a topic in the first place.

 _… Stupid Ravenclaws._

Aragorn was of no help at all, simply laughing at Boromirs bewildered state whenever he realized that he had derailed from his goal once more, completely ignoring the annoyed glares sent his way.

But then the brunette hanged back a little and walked next to him, quietly explaining that Legolas was never really open about himself ever, and that he should feel privileged that the blonde showed him one of his secret hidey holes in the first place. That it showed some real trust from a person raised not to trust _anyone_ , and he felt a little bit better.

They continued trudging through the forest, their wands unlit in fear of attracting attention, leaving behind the old blackened tower- which was where the path had ended- and continued to the edge of the forest, Legolas navigating the way with an ease that suggested long practice.

(Aragorn's theory seemed more and more likely as time went on.)

It was all going well when the blonde abruptly pulled to a stop, every muscle tensing in concentration.

Boromir and Aragorn froze as well, hearts pounding in their chests.

And then Legolas became a whir of movement, drawing his wand with elegant circular motions and turning on his heel. The wand pointed unwaveringly at a batch of trees, and the blonde's face was set in a glare.

"Show yourself!"

The other boys followed suit, although there was fear in their eyes, for they had sensed no intruders and they did not look forward to a battle of any sort. With hushed words, they set their wands aglow.

And so it was to everyone's surprise that no monster or teacher came bursting out of the darkness, but the short figure of one Gimli Durinson.

Boromir lowered his wand in relief, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Aragorn do the same, but Legolas stayed as he was, his eyebrows actually furrowing _more_ at the sight of the redhead.

Evidently, Gimli felt much the same, for at the sight of the blonde his fist tightened upon his own wand, a heavy glare settling on his features.

There were many things that could have happened in that moment- most of which had unpleasant results- but none of those things had a chance to occur, for Aragorn disappeared from Boromir's side and reappeared in between the two in the blink of an eye.

"Gimli, uh, what're you doing here?"

His fellow ginger responded readily enough, but his eyes were unwaveringly following the blonde, who had relaxed his wand but still glared at Gimli with cold eyes.

"Followed you and Boromir, you two were makin' such a ruckus it woke me up. Simple enough to follow you two to the portrait, though I got a little stuck there. Then I just had to follow your footprints… Blondie, where the _heck_ are your footprints?"

Legolas snorted and tilted his chin a degree higher, pointedly looking away.

"Like I'd tell _you_."

Gimli scowled, and despite Aragorn's pleading looks Legolas did not repent.

"You… Why I outta tell the teachers on ya, sneaking out late at night as you are. Bloody rule breaker!"

Boromir watched as Aragorn tried to appease the angered redhead, his brain trying to come up with reasons as to why Gimli should _not_ tell on them. As it turned out, he wouldn't have to; Legolas would do it for him.

"Maybe you should."

The voice was casual, far too casual for the situation, and it cut off the redhead's angry rant rather effectively. At the sudden silence, the blonde looked up from where he was inspecting his wand, his face completely blank at Gimli's sputters.

"I- um, what?"

Legolas slid his wand back into his pocket, crossing his arms in a nonchalant stance. By then, he had everyone's attention.

"Maybe he should. Tell on us. We did, after all, break the rules. But you know what, he won't."

Gimli's smug smile dropped off his face and he immediately started to protest, but the blonde overrode him.

"No, you won't tell on us. You want to know why? _Cause then you'll get in trouble too_ _._ You'll get yourself in trouble, and, not one, but _two_ of your fellow housemates. In all honestly, it'll hurt the Gryffindor house _far_ more than it will hurt Ravenclaw, if you decide to tell."

There was silence amidst the trees at the words.

"So, tell me, is it really worth it, telling on us?"

Gimli fumed, but he had to admit that, no, it wasn't worth it, and so Boromir offered he come along and explained why they were out in the first place. Once his fellow redhead learned about the mysterious lights and the black figures, he was quite curious as well and decided that he would, in fact, join them.

(Although he phrased it in a way that suggested he only came along to keep an eye on Legolas, but that was of little importance, because it meant they weren't going to be in trouble.)

Boromir wondered why the two hated each other so much, but then decided not to say anything about it; it was none of his business.

They walked on for a few more minutes, silence now reining through their small group. It was awkward, but he didn't dare break it, because he didn't want another fight.

And then Legolas tensed once more, except this time he completely froze right in front of Gimli, causing the ginger to crash into him.

Instead of the expected response of yelling and insults, Legolas started to run.

The three Gryffindors shared glances- Aragorn showed concern, Boromir exasperation, and Gimli annoyance- and then started running after the blonde.

As he dashed through the woods- tripping over roots and bushes far more often then he would have liked- Boromir couldn't help but wonder just how good Legolas' senses were; first he noticed Gimli before anyone else, and now he was chasing some random thing that none of them could sense.

And as his breath started to become ragged and his legs sore in effort to keep up, he couldn't help but wonder how on earth Legolas got so fast.

And when they at last found the blonde, all thoughts of wondering vanished into the wind.

For Legolas was there, on his knees, and tears were in his eyes as he gently stroked the white muzzle of a unicorn, silver blood leaking through onto his other hand as he piteously tried put pressure on the gaping wound that slashed open the Unicorn's stomach.

Surrounding him was a small herd of other unicorns, standing silent guardians to their fallen member.

They appeared to notice what the blonde had not, for they became uneasy and restless when Boromir tried to approach. Aragorn grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the sad scene, and then took a tentative step forward to Legolas.

A unicorn reared in response.

Only then did the blonde realize they were there, and he looked up from his quiet murmurs of comfort to address the group. Small tear tracks were tracing their way down his cheeks, and his voice was raw and broken.

"It- It's okay. They're f-friends."

A series of whinnies echoed through the glade.

Legolas looked at them, his hand still softly stroking the fallen unicorn, and called out to them.

"They-they say o-only one of you c-can come…"

Aragorn immediately went forward, making a beeline to his friend and wrapping a comforting arm around the shaking shoulders. The unicorns shifted nervously on their hooves, but made no attempt to stop him.

At the edge of the clearing, Boromir watched in silence until Gimli's gruff voice interrupted.

"I thought unicorns didn' like males…"

Boromir thought he had heard that somewhere as well, but now he was not so sure.

"Yeah, I thought so too…"

Gimli looked up at him, his eyebrows furrowing in growing confusion.

"And he said 'they said', what's up with that? It's not like, he can understand them, right?"

"I- I honestly have no idea…"

And so they watched in silence, and witnessed the death of something that should have never been killed, and the blonde as he quietly comforted the poor creature through her last moments, and then hugged the brunette who comforted him in turn.

And so they watched in silence, as the blonde got up on shaking legs and hugged another unicorn's neck, apologizing over and over for the death of it's loved one, and as the beautiful creature tucked its head around the boy's shoulders, grieving in silence.

And they watched in silence as the blonde kneeled by the fallen unicorn once more, eyes so very heavy and sad, and gently closed its eyes for the last time.

And then the silence was broken, and the chaos erupted.*****

 **...**

 **Aaaand we're done! It was going to be even longer, but, this felt like a good spot, and I get a cliffie in there!**

 **Notes:**

 ***** No, I am not going to favor Legolas and make him always win, I just think that on a broomstick, Legolas is going to be fast, fast and quick and with an excellent aim, while Gimli is steady and strong and hard to knock over and a good person to carry the ball across the field. You'll see what happens...

 ****** One does not simply walk into Mordor... HOGWARTS STYLE!

 ******* Legolas may or may not be super protective over his first friend... And who can blame him? Aragorn has a habit of getting into trouble...

 ******** I kidnapped Gollum's riddle, sorry

 ********* MY FIRST CLIFFIE SO EXCITING!

 **For the Ravenclaw scene, sorry if it was a little off from the books, it's been ages since I read Harry Potter...**

 **Alright, tis the time of gratitude!**

 **Huge sparkly THANK YOU for Nymphae, Idhren of Dunedain, and Agspigs, who favorited/followed! You guys are so fabulous and thank you for supporting me in this way!**

 **HUGE SPARKLY THANK YOU MADE OF ICE CREAM FOR MY LOVELY REVIEWERS! Andy the willow tree, Storm of Golden Fire, Selarah Morgan, Sherezade-Alhadiha- who gave me so many reviews, so many, it was lovely...-** **and Idhren of Dunedain, you guys are FANTABULOUS AND AMAZING AND YOU JUST ROCK AND DON'T LET ANYONE EVER TELL YOU OTHERWISE! :D**

 **OH MY GOSH I LOVE ALL MY READERS THANK YOU FOR READING MY STORIES!**

 **Hopefully, the next chapter will be next week, and I'll manage to get it all done in time...**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **-The Mashpotatoe Queen**


	6. It Would Not Be Waiting Long

**Hello! :D**

 **Now, before you all kill me for abandoning you for such a long time, I would like to say that I did, in fact, put at the beginning of this story that I would update once a week. I will not abandon this tale. I will not forget it. Have no fears, and have just a little patience. :)**

 **Still, if I could update quicker I would. School is hard.**

 **Of Letters and Fellowships and Everything In Between is written in honour of the fantabulous Andy the willow tree. Give this wonderful person a round of applause! *cheers wildly***

 _ **WARNINGS: This chapter mentions blood and wounds and stuff, and might be considered a little disturbing, maybe, for squeamish people. If that kind of stuff makes you feel icky, please feel free to skip it; it's literally like a paragraph long. Also, this chapter features a little Legolas whump... :)**_

 **And so it begins again. I hope you all enjoy the chapter!**

 **...**

The chaos was sudden, random, and completely unpredicted. One moment there was nothing but saddened silence, and then the sound of panicked unicorns and whinnying neighs was heard through out the clearing.

Gimli watched as Legolas quickly stood from his kneeled expression, concern for the fair creatures plastered all over his face, only to crumble back to the ground near instantly, hands clasped around his ears.

Aragorn immediately responded, dropping down next to his friend and gently shaking his shoulder, fear and worry clouding his voice as he asked of the other's well being.

Gimli might have gone over as well, but in that moment the unicorns decided to stampede.

The herd dashed forward with tremendous speed, and were it not for his quick reaction he didn't know what might have happened. As it was, he responded spontaneously to the threat and had shoved Boromir out of the way before diving from the wave of deadly hooves and glistening manes himself.

He covered his head, praying that no harm would come to him. Praying that he had jumped far enough, that he had shoved Boromir far enough, that they would both come out alive.

The terrifying sound of the unicorns pounding across the earth faded into the breeze, and Gimli finally gathered the courage to sit up, his nerves jumping and his heart beating in his ears. Aragorn was checking on Boromir, speaking in concerned tones even as his fellow red-head loudly protested to any injuries. When the brunette noticed Gimli was sitting up, he quickly hurried over and checked him as well, even though he felt perfectly fine.

"Why the _bloody hell_ did they do tha'!?"

He directed the question to the blonde, who was the cause of the whole mess in the first place, and he felt that he had every right to. He could have died. Boromir could have died. They _all_ could have died!

Legolas was by a tree, leaning onto its trunk as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. His face was even paler than normal, almost white in color, and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. His eyes jerked around, and every muscle of his body was tensed.

It was the most off-put that Gimli had ever seen him, and he might have taken some satisfaction in it if it were not for how very _fragile_ the blonde looked.

And so he settled for glaring.

At the question, the blonde's eyes snapped to meet his own, and he spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

"Something bad is coming."

And it was such a simple sentence- a few measly words- but the way Legolas said them, the way his eyes were blown with what could only be fear, the way his gaze trailed off to lock onto the woods that lay beyond…

It transformed those four simple words into something truly terrifying.

"Legolas…"

That was Aragorn, his voice soft and unsure.

"Legolas, what's going on?"

He never got an answer, for the blonde's eyes had suddenly grown wide. He jerked himself away from the tree- stumbling a little bit before the brunette managed to support him- and turned on Gimli and Boromir, a single word on his lips.

"Hide!"

They all hastened to comply.

Gimli threw himself behind a bush, watching as Boromir did the same not too far away and as a concerned Aragorn helped a wavering Legolas down between the branches of a low hanging tree.

For a few minutes, there was nothing. No sound. No noise. No intruders or monsters or beasts. _Nothing_. And Gimli began to suspect that it had all been some sort of practical joke.

And then he felt it.

It was cold, cold and dark and _wrong_ , and it ran through his bones with scraping claws and almost there dangers that he couldn't seem to place. He felt as if he was drowning in a deep black ocean, and he shuddered involuntarily.

This was no natural chill.

And then he heard the voices.

They were rasping and dry, and it was as if a cat was intent on scratching a chalkboard into smithereens. They were the whispers of the deep dark things and the screams of dying innocents. The voices were _death._

Gimli felt his throat go dry, and he quickly checked his ears for blood.

But he couldn't understand them. The words were lost in the foul language that the creatures spoke.

And the creatures were nightmares.

They wore long robes of black, which trailed across the forest floor and left death in their wake. Their faces were covered, but one almost got the impression that their faces didn't even exist. That the creatures didn't even exist. That they were the haunting remains of beings long since dead and gone. That they were the holes in the universe where things simply ceased to _exist_.

Gimli's breath was coming fast and so he clamped a hand around his mouth in hopes to muffle it. Something told him he did _not_ want the creature to find them.

And then the robed figures knelt by the dead unicorn.

They tore the unicorn's body open and drank its blood, the silver dripping down from the gaping holes of nothingness and onto the floor below. Gimli imagined that he could hear as each drop of precious life hit the ground.

 _Drip._

 _Drip._

 _Drip._

And then he stopped, because he felt sick, and looked away, feeling cold and miserable and well and truly terrified. As if he could never feel happy again.

What felt like an age passed, Gimli's legs cramped from their crouched position and bile kept rising in his throat, but he dared not move. He dared not make a sound, for he was scared of what the consequences would be. And he was determined not to be the one who gave his companions away.

Gimli was a Gryffindor. He would be brave, and he would keep silent, and he would keep his friends safe.

Finally, _finally,_ the creatures left. They slithered out into the woods beyond, leaving the once beautiful clearing a mess of blood and death. The cold they brought with them did not leave, however, and he shuddered at the lurking darkness that lingered in his bones.

Nobody moved for a few more minutes, terrified that the monsters and dread would return once more.

They did not, and so they slowly came out of their hiding spots. Boromir and Aragorn did not look too good- they were pale and shaky like Gimli- and Legolas looked like he was seconds away from fainting, most of his weight being supported by the brunette by his side.

Boromir spoke first.

"What _were_ those things?"

Gimli didn't know, and it appeared as if Aragorn didn't either, and so he found himself looking at the blonde with an expectant gaze, only to be disappointed when the other mutely shook his head in response, looking as if he might be sick at any moment.

Aragorn took charge of the situation.

"We need to get out of here. Now. I don't know about you guys, but I _do not_ want to be here if those… things return."

Gimli found himself hastily shaking his head before even registering that he was doing it, and Boromir was much the same besides him. Legolas just closed his eyes and leaned heavier of the brunette, breath coming raspy and shallow.

He examined the blonde a little closer, his brows furrowed. He didn't know why, but the Ravenclaw was affected far more than the rest of them, and he did not look good at all. If Gimli was to guess, he would say that the blonde was minutes away from either throwing up of collapsing.

He wanted to think that the other was just a wimp, or an easier scare than the Gryffindors, but something told him that that would be a lie. That it was not the time or place for petty grudges or rivalry. That something was seriously wrong and that they needed to get out of there, _now,_ because they were in danger.

And so Gimli grudgingly took a step forward to offer his assistance, but he was beaten by Boromir, who slung the blonde's other arm over his own shoulders. The taller redhead glanced at Aragorn.

"Let's go."

The trio took off, and Gimli jogged until he was in front of him. There, he quietly lighted up his wand to show the way; the situation was bad enough as it was, no need to add a twisted ankle into the mess.

They walked on for several long dreadful minutes, tired and hungry and sore, but mainly terrified about the possibility of other monsters lurking in the woods. They were silent as they trudged on, a mixture of fear and exhaustion keeping them quiet.

Gimli swiped at his eyes with one hand, and looked around at the towering trees that loomed over them. He cursed under his breath, for he had no idea where they were, and he had no idea how to get back.

He turned around, ready to consult with his companions in hopes that one of them would know the way, but then the sound of footsteps- footsteps of something large and heavy- filled his ears, and his mouth snapped close with a snap. He glanced at Aragorn and Boromir, whose faces were pinched in panic, and then at Legolas, who looked as if he would shatter if he had to take another step.

And then, before they had a chance to run or hide or form any sort of plan at all, the huge hulking figure came crashing through the trees, and all Gimli could do was hold his wand all the tighter and prey that they weren't about to die.

* * *

Aragorn clenched his fist upon his wand- teeth grinding together and his heart pounding in his chest- and adjusted his grip on Legolas, who appeared to be either unaware of the situation or so out of it that he wasn't able to focus enough to actually care. His worry levels rose to new heights as the blonde rested his forehead on his shoulder, the golden hair forming a curtain around his face.

He wasn't sure what was going on with his friend. He didn't understand why the blonde was so affected by the cloaked figures, but the minute they had gotten closer to their group, Legolas had become still and feverish, uncharacteristically lethargic. To see his energetic and lively friend reduced to such a state was scaring the heck out of him, and being unable to do anything about it was driving him crazy.

But he couldn't focus on that, not when an unknown threat was crashing its way through the forest and right to their little group. His heart was trying to crawl it way up to his throat, and he watched without breathing as the monster crashed through the tree line.

And then he blinked and breathed a shuttering sigh of relief, for the monster was no monster at all.

Beorn stood before them, his huge hulking frame towering far above their group. His eyes were made of steel, and his face was near expressionless as he examined the first years that trembled before him.

Aragorn had little experience with the giant man, only recognizing him from the first day of Hogwarts, where Beorn had led them to the boats and into the castle beyond. Besides that, the man had become one of those things that just sort of happened in the school; the pictures laughed and talked and interacted with one another, the staircases moved, things occasionally exploded for no apparent reason, and sometimes you would see Beorn tending the grounds, a silent presence that was always somehow _there._

Beorn was the first to break the awkward staring contest, reaching down and plucking Legolas from Aragorn and Boromir as if he weighed no more than a doll.

Aragorn considered protesting, but he recognized that the man would have a far easier time holding his friend than he ever would, and that it would probably better for Legolas if he wasn't required to walk any longer. (He had noticed how shallow the Ravenclaw's breathing had been, and he had known that the blonde would mention none of his pain or… well, whatever was bothering him, if it meant hindering the group. Legolas was good- and incredibly irritating- like that.)

The blonde, for his part, appeared completely startled at the sudden movement. Aragorn watched as he quickly grasped the man's shoulder, eyes more aware than they had been in over an hour. Then Legolas seemed to notice just who was holding him, and he flashed a strained smile before curling into a tight ball and closing his eyes once more, looking like a small child in the arms of a giant.

Beorn grunted and turned to face the three Gryffindors.

"Come."

And then he walked off, his long strides allowing him to travel at an incredibly rapid pace.

Aragorn traded looks with Gimli and Boromir, and shrugged; he had no idea what was the best course of action either. Beorn had taken Legolas with him though, and there was no way Aragorn was just going to leave him behind.

And so they went, taking off in a light jog to keep up with their guide.

And that was how Aragorn found himself sitting at an oversized table, on an oversized bench, a heavy duvet over his shoulders and supporting a half-there Legolas, who was so wrapped up in blankets that he appeared more burrito than human. The blonde was interacting with people though, occasionally nodding or shaking his head when someone asked him a question, and Aragorn was grateful for the improvement, as small as it may be.*

Beorn stood before the four boys, eyebrows furrowed and uncomfortably silent. Aragorn nibbled on his bottom lip, waiting for their sentence. They had broken the rules, after all.

But no, there was only the long, heavy silence.

At least, until Boromir lost his patience.

"Well? What's our punishment gunna be!?"

The giant man blinked once, his intense yellow orbs focusing on the fiery redhead until Boromir looked away, and then he let loose a huff of a breath and sat down on his own oversized chair, although it wasn't so oversized for him.

"No punishment. No trouble for young, foolish boys. If you go into the forest, it is your choice. Your punishment will not come from me."

Then Beorn leaned forward, his unnatural eyes almost glowing in the soft light of the room.

"It is dangerous in these woods. Monstrous creatures. Screaming trees. Trails of death that go on and on and on, then disappear without trace. To enter is punishment itself."

And then he was gone, walking away as if he had not uttered words of death and doom.

He paused, for a moment though, right before he ducked behind the corner, and then turned back to the children who sat around his table.

"I will brinks snacks."

Aragorn blinked, confusion whirring over the sudden topic change, and looked at his companions. Gimli seemed just as confused as he was, and Boromir seemed to be questioning the man's sanity. Legolas had somehow wrangled an arm out of his cocoon, and was absentmindedly tracing patterns on the large expanse of wood that rested in front of him.

Gimli spoke up, and Aragorn turned his attention to him.

"What the hell just happened?"

He shook his head, for he really had no idea.

"And what were those things! They weren' natural, I'm tellin ya. Bloody evil, I'm sure, probably responsible for those dead trails Beorn was talkin' about! And what were they doin' so close to school! Doesn't Hogwarts have any sort of safety rules at all-"

They all knew what he was talking about. The creatures. The monsters. With their essence of evil and wrongness. The unbearable cold seeping into their bones… They all felt his frustration, his shock, his _terror._

And so it came as a surprise when the red head's rant was cut short by Legolas' soft voice.

"They're searching for something."**

Three pairs of eyes turned on the blonde, who still seemed fragile and overly pale, but there was determination shining in his eyes and a clarity in his expression that was not there before.

"They're searching for something. They can sense it, and they want it. Desperately. And they know that it's here, in the school, that someone is keeping it from them."

Aragorn leaned forward, deciding not to question just _how_ Legolas came to understand the monstrous creatures, and furrowed his brows in concentration.

"What is it? What are they searching for?"

The blonde's face fell.

"I- I don't know…"

Gimli snorted.

"That's convenient."

Legolas shot the red head an icy glare before turning his attention back to Aragorn. The brunette felt another bubble of worry expand in is chest, for his friend's tired blue eyes appeared beyond exhausted. But still, the blonde was determined to say his piece, and Aragorn knew that there would be no stopping him.***

"I don't know what it it, or who has it, but I do know this; if those… monsters get their hands on it, things would turn out very, very bad."

And so they sat, a group of children bearing the weight of a secret they were not so sure they should share. The snacks came- consisting of copious amounts of chocolate- and went, and Beorn released the trouble makers from his cabin and watched as they scurried through the grounds back to Hogwarts. Once there, the group bade silent goodbyes and went their separate ways, never knowing the danger that awaited them.

And it would not be waiting long.

 **...**

 **And so it ends once more...**

 **Note**

* Legolas Burrito, guys. LEGOLAS BURRITO! :D :D :D :D

** Okay, let me give you a little bit of an explanation on Legolas' power thingie. If anyone checked out the website I used to decide the characters' wands, they would have seen that an Applewood Wand- the wand that Legolas has- is often found with owners that have the ability to communicate with other magical creatures in their native tongues. Does this extend to Unicorns and more animal like creatures? I don't know, but it does in this fic. The reason I gave Legolas this ability is that in canon, he's an elf. He's an immortal and that made him different from the rest of the fellowship. I wanted to honor that a little bit, and also I just thought it be really cool... :)

*** Why was Legolas so effected? Because I think that to understand something you have to be extra sensitive to their magic and their ways, so that already makes things worse for him. Also, the other boys were effected by the mere _presence_ of the black speech, Legolas could understand every word, he could feel and interact with every foul sentence that was uttered in that clearing, and I honestly believe that that would have a much greater effect on anyone. So yeah. Legolas whump.

 **So yeah! There we go! I feel like this isn't my best, and I may come back and edit later, but I also feel that it was good enough to show to the world, and so here you go!**

 **To anyone reading this story: Thank you so much for putting the time and effort into checking it out, and any comments or advice on my work would be deeply appreciated. :)**

 **To Boat-Hacks, InkWizard, and bookygurl3400: Thank you so much for favoriting and following guys! The support is super appreciated! *hugs* You're all so wonderful and lovely!**

 **To Andy the willow tree, SelarahMorgan, and Boat-Hacks: YOU GUYS ARE SO AMAZING AND FANTABULOUS THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING! :D *bows to your awesomeness***

 **Also, before I forget: My fanfiction account was acting up and not letting me respond to any reviews. Ima sorry about that. I think I fixed it, though, so I'll respond to them now!**

 **Aaaaaand we're done!**

 **:) Thanks for reading guys,**

 **\- The Mashpotatoe Queen**


	7. The Eye That Burns

**_*Crashes through window and leaps up, panting from excursion*_**

 **Heh heh... hi?**

 **I am SO sorry that this was delayed by a week. You all deserve so much better... :/ My excuse is endless homework, traveling, and camping. I'm sure you all understand.**

 **(I hope...)**

 **So yeah, this is super short (only 2000 words...) and more of a filler than anything, but I hope you enjoy! Hopefully, next chapter will be longer with more stuffs and action! :)**

 ** _Of Letters and Fellowships and Everything In Between_ is written in honor of Andy the willow tree, who is awesome and fantabulous and everyone should just cheer for all the time...**

 ***cheers wildly***

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 ** _..._**

 _The Eye was burning. Burning and angry._

 _The Eye wanted it, needed it desperately. It would do anything to have it, and its power was consuming him, burning his skin and making soundless cries tear from his throat._

 _He couldn't let him have it though! He couldn't! If he did all would be lost! Everything they had worked for would be gone…_

 _Formless hands groped at him, dragging him down, down, down, into the fiery depths of the Eye with no escape and no hope of rescue. It was consuming him, tearing him apart, but he had to save it, had to keep it safe! It was vital, vital for the mission and vital for his life..._

 _He could not let the Eye take it! He could not let the R-_

Frodo woke with a start, a scream on his lips and the thrumming fire of fear in his veins. He pushed a hand against his pounding heart, as if to contain it in his chest, and tried to slow his rapid breathing.

Inside his mind, the red fiery eye burned.

He glanced around his dorm and was happy to see that he didn't wake anyone with his thrashing. Pippin mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like _hippo eat a dog_ , Merry let loose a loud snore, and Sam rolled over with a soft _humph_. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he scrambled out of his tangled sheets and reached for his ring.

He would be getting no more sleep that night; he never did after such nightmares.

He slipped on the trinket and wandered down the stairs. The Common Room was empty; the walls were covered in wreaths and tinsel and small little acorns other Hufflepuffs found in the woods, the fireplace supported a dozen stockings, and a small, heavily decorated Christmas tree was resting in the corner. The whole school was far emptier than he was used to, most students choosing to go home for Christmas.

The halls of Hogwarts were empty, and Frodo walked through them as he tried to force his mind away from grasping hands and the feeling of being watched.

It didn't work.

He jumped at every shadow, scurried to hide- despite the fact that he was invisible- at the slightest of noises, and held his breath whenever the telltale flicker of light caught his eye.

But that was okay though. It was better than just laying in his bed and thinking about his dream with no distractions. Anything was better than that.

With silent feet, Frodo made his way deeper into the castle.

In this way, he had found many nooks, crannies and secret passages. It was fun- in some ways- but he always felt guilty for his rule breaking, and often found himself huddled back in bed with nothing to say for it within an hour, traitorous thoughts or not.

But this night he did not do that, for he came across something strange…

It happened when he heard the sound of rushing footsteps and, panicked, had slid into an empty room in hopes of staying hidden.

At least, he thought it empty.

But it was not, and inside was a huge ornate mirror.

Curious, Frodo had stepped up to it- sliding off his ring and pushing it into his pajama pocket- only to jerk back and whirl around when he spotted several other reflections surrounding his own.

Panicked excuses came to his lips…

"I'm sorry I'm out of bed, I-"

But no one was there.

He frowned, turning back to the mirror and taking a step closer, really observing the silent figures for the first time.

He gasped.

For those we're no strangers or nameless faces; they were his parents. His parents, whom he had lost so long ago.

They had died, like so many others, in the war. Both were squibs, but his mother had a way with potions and was an excellent fighter, and his father...well, he was never one to let her go on her own.

It had been a huge fight, one of the last before the downfall of the Dark Lord, and they had died fighting hundreds of faceless evils. _Drowned_ by the sheer numbers.*

Frodo had been five.

His memory was fuzzy at best, but he knew- _he knew_ \- that those were his parents. There was his mother, tall and strong, with flyaway hair pulled into a bun and a familiar twinkle in her smiling blue eyes. There was his father, so caring and always laughing, a bit chubby around the middle with curly black hair and a kind handsome face wrinkled from a lifetime of smiles.**

Both so brave, both so strong, and both long, long gone.

They were not alone in the mirror, he realized. His uncle was there, and his friends. Laughing and smiling and so welcoming and alive. _They were alive._

They were _happy._

Tentatively, with shaking hands, Frodo reached out and brushed his fingers against the glass surface, wishing that he could find a way to just push through the invisible barrier and into the world beyond.

But he could not, and desperate emotions clogged his throat.

"It does not do to linger, Frodo."

He whirled around once more, eyes wide, and gaped when he saw the owner of the aged, gravelly voice.

For there was the headmaster, watching him with something that resembled sadness in his old, tired eyes.

"Professor Gandalf! I- uh… What are you doing here?"

Frodo's voice was meek and nervous, and he felt shame bubbling in his throat.

The wizened wizard smiled at him, soft and faint, and nodded to the mirror.

"Much the same as you, I suppose, to look into the Mirror of Erised."

The young Hufflepuff glanced at the mirror as well, eyes softening when he saw his family once more.

"What do you see?"

The question interrupted his thoughts, but he answered- in a quiet, wistful tone- soon enough.

"My family, sir. My friends, my uncle, my p-parents. All of us, together. And were happy. So, so _happy…_ "

Frodo swiped at his eyes- he refused to cry in front of such an important figure- and tried to push down the sudden desperate longing of home. In those few moments, he decided that he would visit his uncle more.

He was surprised when an old wrinkled hand landed on his shoulder.

Wide icy blue eyes looked upwards.

Warm sky blue eyes looked down.

"Listen, here, my boy. Times were hard, back then. The war was a terrible, terrible thing. So many good people were lost… _So many…_ But we must not linger on them, Frodo. We must never forget, but we must never let ourselves be lost amidst miseries and regrets. We must push forwards."

Here the voice became intense, so very different from the soft tones of before.

"Dark times are coming, Frodo. Dark times. We must keep our wits about us, or we will all be lost."

Frodo was unsure as to what the man was saying- in truth he had little clue at all- but there was something in Gandalf's words that struck a fire deep in his heart, and he found himself nodding along.

"For the sake of all of us, then, I must ask you to not return here. Go to bed Frodo, and sleep. No more nightmares shall find you this night."

And he had nodded- not stopping to question how the elder knew he had a nightmare, or just how he his dead parents came to be in the mirror- and had turned to the door.***

He had stopped- however- just once, and looked back, searching for the faces of his family once last time…

But they were already gone.

* * *

Legolas gazed at the grey winter sky, watching as the first few snowflakes fluttered down from the heavy clouds and caught the pale early morning light. The snow beneath his feet crunched as he walked, and the icy wind nipped at his skin.

He wiped at his nose before shoving his hands into his pockets, trying to preserve heat. It was utterly freezing so early in the morning, and he almost regretted sneaking out of the house.

But his father had been driving him crazy, and the constant surveillance after so much freedom was doing his head in. There was always someone next to him, always someone watching him, always someone _there._

Even his bedroom was no longer safe.

And so he had sneaked out in the middle of the night, climbing out of his window and into large oak tree that rested next to the house. From there, it was a rather simple to clamber down to the ground below; four floors was nothing, really.****

And then he had walked, long and hard, until he was far enough away from the mansion and its suffocating walls.

He wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to try and run away and never return. He just needed a little space, a little freedom to breathe, and a little time to gather his thoughts.

He pondered about his responsibilities. Aragorn was going to be staying at Hogwarts for his Christmas break and would be searching for clues in the library as to what those… _creatures_ wanted, or what those things could be. (He could still feel the numbing cold invading his soul, the rasping voices invading his mind and drowning all other thoughts…) Boromir was going home for the break, but he said that he would look through his family's own extensive library. Even Gimli had pitched in, grudgingly agreeing to ask his family- who _all_ apparently played big parts in the war- and relay any information he gained.

And Legolas? Legolas was supposed to ask his father.

His father, who had lost his wife to the war. His father, who had played the double agent and had saved hundreds of lives. His father, who had risked everything in that battle.

His father, who never talked about the war. Ever.

His morose thoughts were interrupted by a snapping sound.

Legolas froze, every muscle twitching and eyes narrowed, and glanced around at the empty park that surrounded him.

No one was there.

But still... he had not imagined it. It was far too jarring, far too loud, and far too prominent in the absolute silence.

But still… Who- or what- would be out at four in the morning?

Legolas swiped some escaped hair behind his ear, and glanced around once more, his heart beating painfully loud in his ears.

Decision made, he started to head home; better safe than sorry… right?

The whole way, he heard soft noises of something following him, but whenever he turned around... no one was there.

When at last he arrived back at the mansion, he quickly rushed inside before surveying the crystal clear landscape that rested in front of him. Crystal clear… except for three sets of footprints in the quickly gathering snow.

Legolas shivered.

(It was not because of the cold.)

The blonde waited no longer, instead rushing inside in hopes of finding warmth, dry clothes, and something to eat. And security… suddenly, the constant surveillance no longer seemed so very intrusive.

 _Two figures dashed across the hills, silent and stealthy and impossible to detect if not for the softly falling snow. They returned to their master, for the plan was set and every piece was in place…_

Behind him, the door clicked shut.

 **...**

 **Notes:**

 ***** I read somewhere that Frodo's parents died by drowning... But I also heard they died fighting wolves... I don't know? Anyways. They dead in this story... :/

 ****** Hello yes, this description is _completely_ made up. I honestly have no idea what they look like.

 ******* For those of you who don't know, the Mirror of Erised shows your heart's deepest desire

 ******** Legolas stop showing off, you making me feel inadequate... :)

 **So yeah! Here you go! I hope you all enjoyed! :)** **Any help or advice or comments or reviews would be super duper appreciated! :D**

 **Hopefully, next chapter won't be so delayed... :/**

 **Now to show my eternal gratitude!**

 **To I'mprobablyprocrastinating, Toomanyobssesionstocount, blondgirl16, and EysiraLaenya, who followed and favorited: OH MY GOODNESS THANK YOU SO MUCH! You're support is super appreciated!**

 **To Boat-Hacks, Andy the willow tree, and Rita Orca, who reviewed: I think I may love you. Like seriously. YOU GUYS ARE SO AWESOME AND FANTABULOUS AND YOUR REVIEWS MAKE ME SO VERY HAPPY! :D THAAAANK YOUUUUU!**

 **(If perhaps some more people could review that be really awesome cause its a huge moral booster and stuff and it makes me so happy to hear your guy's thoughts and such so yeah if you want to review that be really super great...)**

 **To _Rita Orca_ (who's a guest so I can't respond to by PM) : ** Hey Rita! Awesome to hear from you, my friend, it's been a while! I'm so glad you think the story's working and like how I translated the characters from one tale to another. :) The real action might take a while- I'm still developing the characters and deciding where exactly this is going to go- but hopefully this little snippet might offer you a taste! As for whether or not I will kill Boromir... I guess you'll just have to wait and see! MUWAHAHAHAHAHA! Anyways, Thank you SO MUCH for reviewing! I hope to hear again from you soon!

 **Thanks for reading guys!**

 **-Mashpotatoe Queen**


	8. Explanations in the Deep Dark Night

**Hey everyone! This is just a short little one shot to keep everyone going before the next _real_ chapter. I hope everyone enjoys! :)**

 **This fic is written in honour of the fabulous Andy the willow tree! (So fantabulous...)**

 **;D**

 **...**

"Ada?"

The man at the opposite end of the table made a small hum of confirmation, elegantly swallowing a forkful of turkey and dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

He did not look up.

Legolas let loose a little sigh, nervously tapping his fingers across his legs and swallowing hard. This was a far easier conversation in his head, and even there it was filled with long awkward pauses and an endless amount of stammering. But he would not give up on it; Aragorn and Boromir were counting on him.

(Also Gimli, but that mattered little in comparison.)

"Legolas? If you are going to ask something, ask it."

The young blonde cleared his throat, hastily stuffing a mouthful of peas down his throat; anything to give him a bit more time. He didn't want to do this, he didn't want to make his father upset…

But it was really his only chance at getting any proper information…

"Legolas-"

"I was wondering about mom!"

He blurted the words without truly thinking about them, for they were the first thing that came to mind. He had no idea what had come over him, but once said the hasty words he could not take them back... and so he awkwardly hunched over in his seet and watched his father with a timid gaze.

The subtle sounds of eating went silent.

Legolas bit his lip.

Thranduil slowly placed his glass of wine on the long dining room table, the quiet click astoundingly loud in the silence.

"We are not talking about this."

Immediately, the Ravenclaw opened his mouth to protest.

"But- Ada. You, you never talk about her. Ever. I just- I wanted- Can't you just give me a little information? About what happened? About, about what it was like? I-"

"No."

Legolas opened his mouth once more, but the glare sent his way made his jaw snap abruptly shut.

The rest of the meal was shrouded in silence.

* * *

Hours later, Legolas found himself sitting up in bed.

He was staring at the distant glow of Christmas lights, wondering if Christmas Eve was such a somber affair in other households and families.

Wondering if his own family even counted as a family anymore.

It was then he heard the quiet creak of his door.

Frowning, Legolas turned around to meet the tall figure who had just entered his room, only to start when he realized that said figure was his father.

Thranduil, upon seeing that he had his son's attention, stilled.

"May I… May I come in?"

For a few moments, an awkward- painfully awkward- silence filled the room. But then Legolas offered a small smile and nodded.

"Yeah… Yeah, you can."

The elder nodded and fully entered the room. It was then that Legolas realized that the man held a musty old leather case in his hands. The young blonde tilted his head, curious, and reached for the object, only for his father to sharply shake his head.

The small hand retreated.

Gracefully, Thranduil sat himself down at the edge of his son's bed and placed the case in front of them. Then he carefully- _so very carefully_ \- undid the thick metal clasps with long pale fingers and opened the lid, sending a thick wave of dust through the air.

Legolas scrunched his nose in disgust, but then his face turned to wonderment when he spotted the treasures that rested inside.

For there, hidden under layers of age and dust, were a countless amount of photographs.

With utmost care, he reached out and gently picked up a picture.

It was of two people, a young woman with long flowing hair and a brilliant smile, and a young man who held her close, laughing. They looked at each other with such love and adoration, smiles so bright and vibrant, that one could see their utter devotion for one another.

Legolas looked closer, past the grey and the frayed edges, and abruptly realized that the man was his father. He blinked, looking up at Thranduil- and his sad, fond expression- and then looked back down to the photo in his hands.

"Is that mom?"

 _Silence._ Silence for several long, painful moments. But then…

"Yes."

The young blonde stared down at the woman he would never have a chance to really know, lamenting the loss and wondering just how his life would have been different, if only she had survived.

"Do you miss her?"

"Every day."

…

"Do you think she would've liked me?"

"She would have _loved_ you."

Legolas stayed very, _very_ still. He dared not ruin the moment by fidgeting or saying the wrong thing; this was the first time in months that they actually held a decent conversation. The first time in _years_ since they had actually bonded.

But slowly, _slowly_ , the youth moved closer to the elder, daring to rest his head on one large warm shoulder. He felt Thranduil tense, and he froze, but then his father relaxed as well and _slowly_ wrapped an arm around his son. Legolas smiled, burrowing deeper into the embrace.

With new confidence, he reached out and grabbed another photograph.

"Ada?"

"Yes?"

"I… Can you tell me what it was like? Please?"

Again, silence reigned. Again, Thranduil eventually conceded.

"You must understand, Legolas… Those were dark times. Dark, dark one knew who was going to die next, who to trust, who to believe. Everything was shaded- grey- and there was fear everywhere."

"Your mother… Your mother was so beautiful. So kind. She fought so hard for justice, so hard for what she believed in. She never gave up, never let anything bring her down. She was a light in the darkness… until she died."

"And it was so cruel, Legolas, so cruel… The Dark Lord and his servants knew no mercy. They were a horrid people, and took such pleasure in giving others pain. And no matter what we did, the Dark Lord would return. He was so powerful, and so impossible to defeat. Death was a meaningless concept to him, and so many died for the effort…"

And so it went. Legolas learned many new things that night, and it would be many months before his thoughts would not wonder to dark times and places, filled with dungeons and evils and endless hardships. But that night was also a remembrance of good times, of memories that stayed so very close to the heart…

And when at last the moon started to wane and the youth's eyes started to droop- sleep claiming him with swift determination- Thranduil placed a single kiss upon soft golden locks and tucked his child into bed, something he had not done in years.

Somewhere, deep in the depths of the mansion, a clock chimed.

The elder smiled, and silently crept to the door. His parting words hardly heard over his son's soft breath.

"Merry Christmas, Legolas."

But Legolas was not so far gone as he appeared, and bleary blue eyes peeked open upon the quiet words.

"Ada?"

"Yes?"

" 'Love you…"

Thranduil froze, for those words were not so very common in the quiet household, but he shook it off. Somewhere, deep inside, his poor battered heart healed just a little bit farther.

"I love you, too."

But Legolas did not hear the whispered words, for he was already lost to the world of dreams...

 **...**

 **The end.**

 **(No notes for this chapter...)**

 **Was it good? Was it bad? Did you like? Any spelling errors? I'm happy to hear! Any and all reviews are so welcome!**

 **Thank you so much to TheSODU and PhishTaco, who followed. You guys are so fabulous! :)**

 **Also, a huge sparkly THANK YOU to Boat-Hacks and Andy the willow tree for reviewing! I really, really appreciate your support, guys! *hugs***

 **Hopefully the next chapter will be more forwarding for the story, and you guys will get some more info!**

 **Thanks for the patience, everyone!**

 **-Mashpotatoe Queen**

 **Any rev**


	9. Worrisome Discussions and Hidden Truths

***Dashes into the room, panting as if having run a marathon***

 **I MADE IT! FINALLY!**

 **Let me tell you a little bit about my week:**

 **I wrote a lovely new chapter and laughed gaily as I finished it, told Andy that I would be posting it later that Saturday, and then set upon a journey to my fanfiction website. I went to create a new document... AND IT DIDN'T WORK.**

 **IT WAS SO IRRITATING.**

 **Like, I couldn't get to the copy & pace section, at all.**

 _ **GRRRRRRR**_

 **Anyways, that's why this is on so late; my fanfiction account hated me and decided to rebel.**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

 **As always, this Fanfic was written in honour of Andy the willow tree, who absolutely fab.**

 **...**

Aragorn couldn't help but grin when he spotted a familiar head of gold amidst the sea of students streaming into the Great Hall. The next semester was starting, and in all honesty he was looking forward to it.

More importantly, he was looking forward to not being alone anymore.

He had his dad and his brothers, and they had celebrated a lovely Christmas together… but it wasn't as if he got to spend _all_ his time hanging around his family. There were times where he was alone and rather miserable, or not alone with rather _unpleasant_ company.*

And _that_ was always worse.

And so one can imagine his excitement when he spotted Legolas making his way through the crowds, waving enthusiastically at him. Then, without a glance to the myriad of weird looks he received, the blonde popped down next to Aragorn as if sitting down of at a table not of your house- and next to Isildur's heir no less- was the most natural thing to do in the world.

He couldn't help but grin as Legolas casually grabbed an orange from the giant fruit bowl in front of them.

"You _do_ know you're not supposed to sit here, right?"

The Ravenclaw raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? These are student tables, and we're all students. Besides, I've never read anything that says that were _not_ allowed to sit at other house's tables."

Aragorn snorted at his companion's insistence and let it slide with a shrug of his shoulders. In all honesty, he was just happy to see Legolas back to his cheerful, vibrant self; ever since the forest, the blonde had been oddly downcast and quiet.

The next person to join their little group was Boromir, who rolled eyes at Legolas- who smiled innocently at him- and then heavily sat down across from them without a word. Reaching for the chicken without further ado, he consumed the meat as if he hadn't eaten in days.

Aragorn continued to work at his own meal- he was used to the redhead's eating habits- but Legolas stared for a whole ten seconds, expression growing more and more disgusted, before delicately putting his half eaten orange down onto the table.

"Ya know? I'm not that hungry anymore…"

And Aragorn laughed, because it felt amazing to finally be surrounded by his friends once more.

When Gimli joined the group, he nodded to his fellow Gryffindors and then huffed at the sight of the blonde.

"What're you doin' here, Blondie?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow at the redhead, his expression plainly questioning the shorter's intelligence.

"Sitting? Talking? Breathing? Surely you have _some_ sort of skill in observation…"

Gimli glared at the Ravenclaw.

"I _meant_ what are you doing at _our_ table."

Legolas picked his orange back up, looking down at it instead of at the Gryffindor, and absentmindedly popped a piece in his mouth, despite the claim that he was no longer hungry.

"I already told you."

Gimli's face grew redder than his hair, and it looked as if he was about to blow, but Boromir grabbed his arm and forced him to sit down, giving him a few sympathetic pats on the back and then shaking his head, informing his fellow ginger that the argument wasn't worth it.

Aragorn watched in silence, wishing the two would get along.

The group left the hall early, retreating to the library as planned; they assumed that they should share any information they gathered as quickly as possible, and away from listening ears and prying eyes.

"Well… Did any of you guys find anything?"

Aragorn started the conversation, painfully aware of the awkwardness.

Legolas piped up first.

"I talked with my dad, it seemed as if the Dark Lord was immortal, that no matter how many times you killed him, he would come back."

Gimli spoke up as well, voice gruff and with an peculiar exression on his face, as if he had just been forced to eat something disgusting. (Aragorn suspected that it had a lot to do with the fact he had been forced to _agree_ with the blonde.)

"I got the same info. One of my uncles actually got a shot at the bastard; didn't work. Apparently he had some sort of magic that made him impossible to kill."

Legolas frowned.

"What sort of magic could possibly be strong enough- oh."

The blood rushed out of the his face, far paler than anyone should ever be.

Aragorn, concerned, placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Legolas?"

The blonde shook his head, flashing a small, shaky smile to the brunette before leaning in closer to the other boys.

"In my library, there's this really big book. My father said that I wasn't allowed to read it, but… well, I read it. It was a book about dark magic, and their was a section about this magical implement called horcruxes... Basically, to make a horcrux you have to split your soul into pieces and then place those pieces into an object. And as long as a horcrux exists you just… you don't die."

Silence.

"Well _that's_ not creepy."

Boromir was the breaker of said silence, and his face stated very plainly that it was, in fact, very creepy.

Legolas laughed, except it was more strangled and terrified than anything else.

"But you're missing the point, those… creatures were searching for something. They could sense it… And that means whatever they sensed had to be some powerful magical artifact. And anything related to those creatures can not be good…"

The blonde looked around, blue orbs pleading that his friends would not come to the same conclusion as himself. Pleading that he was wrong.

Aragorn's eyes widened when he realized just what his friend was implying.

"You don't mean…"

Legolas bit his lip and nodded, causing Aragorn to close his eyes and pale as well.

"Well!? Spit it out!"

The two redheads glared at the enlightened members of their group, their lack of comprehension making them frustrated.

The brunette was the one who responded.

"Horcruxes are created with incredible dark magic, right? And those creatures were in the forest, searching for something…"

Gimli huffed, but there was fear in his eyes when he finally spoke up.

"You're not actually suggesting that…"

"There might be a horcrux hidden in Hogwarts? That's exactly what we're suggesting."

Legolas spoke up as well.

"And if the horcrux belongs to the Dark Lord… then the Great Peace may be coming to an end very, _very_ soon…"

 **...**

Boromir leaned closer to Aragorn, speaking quietly in hopes that the Professor Dwalin wouldn't notice their subtle conversation.

"So… What are we going to do?"

"Tell an adult."

Boromir frowned, leaning in closer.

"That's it? We're just… going to give the information up and let someone else handle it?"

Aragorn finally looked up from his diligent note taking, annoyance clear in his expression.

"You're right; let's just _not_ say anything about the possibly crucial information that may or may not hint of _the Dark Lord's return_ and keep it to ourselves, _four eleven-year-old untrained kids_. That will go _extremely_ well. _Of course we're going to go to someone about it!"_

"Well-"

It was then the boys heard a loud clearing of throat behind them, and they both froze.

"Having a nice… chat, boys?"

The young Gryffindors sheepishly turned in their seats, innocent smiles plastered on their faces. They knew it was a hopeless cause, but still… perhaps faking sincerity would keep them in the professor's good books for just a little longer.

"Uh, hi sir! We were just discussing the best way to grind the porcupine quill…"

Besides him, Boromir felt Aragorn wince.

"And why would you be doing that, lad? We're currently not even making a potion. We're taking notes. Independently. _Silently_."

Boromir chuckled, voice strained and high pitched underneath the leering gaze of the intimidating professor, and besides him Aragorn buried his head in his hands, refusing to look; the whole situation was getting out of control, and the entire class was in titters at the duo's misfortune.

A few desks ahead, Boromir spied Gimli hunching further over his scroll, shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

Revenge was required over the little incident, but it would have to be dealt with at a different time, for now there was an angry adult looming over him, enchanted tattoos swirling across scarred skin.**

"Ummm… I was curious?"

Aragorn released a groan, muffled by his hands.

Professor Dwalin stared. And stared. And _stared._

Boromir leaned slightly away from the Potion's Master, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face.

And then the professor laughed, long and hard, and slapped the ginger on the back once before heading to his desk, deep chuckles still reverberating around the room.

The brunette peaked out from underneath his fingers, releasing a huge breath of relief once it was revealed that there would be no punishment; Professor Dwalin was like that. He was strict, blunt, and at times downright terrifying, but he was also kind under his rough exterior, and was known to unexpectedly laugh in response to misbehaving kids. The man was a war-hero, a gruff teacher, and a gruffer friend, but he was fair and considerate in his own way, and Aragorn was all the happier for it; not all the teachers of Hogwarts were so nonchalant of having the heir of Isildur in their class….

Gimli, upon seeing his chance, had turned in his seat and was now grinning at the two, his expression showing his endless amusement at their expense. Boromir, in return, glowered at him, and Aragorn rolled his eyes before going back to taking his notes, pretending that the whole incident hadn't happened and that the class was most definitely _not_ staring at them.

And it was strange, for if he had been in this situation only a few months ago, he would already be halfway through a panic attack. But now… now, he was embarrassed and self conscious, but not in a way that was so emotionally incapacitating that all he wanted to do was run from the room and hide for the rest of forever. Now there was no anger, or guilt. There was no shame. There was just minor embarrassment of being caught by the teacher, and the silly feud that meant nothing between his friends, and Boromir nudging him on the shoulder to get his attention before sending a miniature army of spitballs at Gimli with a wave of his wand, and Gimli retaliating by somehow conjuring a paper dragon that insistently bombarded Boromir for the rest of the class…

Now there was just friendship and showing off and messing around.

And when Boromir goaded him on, Aragorn rolled his eyes but did his part, fashioning a paper sword and sending it charging across the room, right into Gimli's nose.

And when Gimli only froze for a few seconds, his brain apparently unable to comprehend, Aragorn did not sink into apologies and stutters, he laughed.

And when he was required to bat away a dragon that had decided to refocus its intentions on _him_ , the thought that the redhead was actually angry never even entered his mind, for he knew it was all in fun.

And it was stupid and silly and he should have really aid attention to the lesson instead of goofing off. He should have really been worrying about the troublesome theories and the possible return of the Dark Lord. He should have been proactive or creating a strong plan for their next move that had no terrible risks.

But in those few moments, he couldn't bring himself to really care, basking in the pleasure of having things he never thought he would really get to have….

Friends.

 **...**

 **Notes:**

 ***** To all you people who don't celebrate Christmas, I'm sorry if this offends you in any shape, way, or form. :)

 ****** AWWWWWW YAAAAS MAGIC TATOOOOOOOSSSS! :D :D :D

 **So yeah! There's you're chapter. Personally, I really enjoyed the ending, and Aragorn breaks my heart. (DON'T BE SAD ARAGORN I LOVE YOU!) What are your thoughts, my dear reader? I would love to hear them. :) (LIKE REALLY, REALLY; HEARING YOUR THOUGHTS MAKES ME SUPER HAPPY!)**

 **Now. I have some bad news. Or good news. Depends on how you see it:**

 **I'm joining NaNoWriMo, which means I'll be devoting all my free time to writing my novel, which means that I won't be updating this story during the month of November, unless I get really stuck with my project. So, the story will go on a short hiatus- maybe. (I may fail miserably and come crawling back to you guys, we'll see.)**

 **SORRY!**

 **(For those who don't know what NaNoWriMo is about, it's awesome! It's like an online writing world for authors who want help with their novels. I strongly recommend you check it out!)**

 **HUGE AMAZING SPARKLY THANK YOU TO ANDY THE WILLOW TREE AND  BOAT-HACKS, WHO ARE SO KIND AND CARING AND WONDERFUL! ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL FIREWORK IN THE SKY THANK YOU TO PHISH TACO, THE SODU, AND AVIDFFREADER99, WHO LIGHT UP MY WORLD WITH JOY AND HAPPINESS!**

 **Man, that was a lot of caps...**

 **Anyways, thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and I look forward to next time!**

 **-Mashpotatoe Queen**


	10. The Professor

***Crawls through the door, a bit bloodied and a bit bruised, but relatively alive***

 **Hey guys...**

 **So yeah. This is a bit late. If anyone read my author's note for the last chapter they would see that I took November off to take part in NaNoWriMo, which explains that, as for the other few weeks that I've been missing...**

 **Well, life happened. It was pretty crazy, I might have been beaten up, there was some serious relationship issues going on between some of my friends, there was an accident, and everything all sort of boiled down into one huge drama fest last week. Anyways, it's over now and I think everything's going to turn out all right. I'm okay, and so is everyone else- pretty much- so I say all shall end well!**

 **This chapter is more for me to get back into the flow of writing these characters. This story will NOT be abandoned, have no fears! I'm already halfway through chapter 11, so that should be up sometime tomorrow.**

 **Thank you so much for your patience everyone!**

 **This story is dedicated to Andy The Willow Tree, who is truly fabulous and whom I have eternal gratefulness for. Andy is really great guys. Simply Amazing.**

 **I hope you all enjoy!**

 **...**

Four figures rushed through the darkened halls of the Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, mentally counting down the seconds before lights out. They were running out of time, their window of opportunity quickly shutting down.

In the lead, Aragorn glanced behind himself and made a shushing gesture to the two rivals of the group, who were far too busy glaring at each other to pay much attention to it. Behind them, Boromir raised his hands in a _What-can-you-do?_ gesture and gave Legolas a shove, making the blonde flail forwards into Gimli's back, who quickly shoved him off with a stream of muttered curses. Aragorn raised a brow but said nothing, instead choosing to continue their path forwards.

Their destination, a tall green silver-bound door, came into sight, and the others gazed expectantly at Aragorn, waiting for him to knock; it was only logical that he should do it.

After all, they were going to go and speak with Aragorn's adoptive father.

The brunette bit his lip, a sense of unexpected unease curling in his stomach. He wondered at it, for this was the man who had raised him for practically his entire life; why should he worry?

But worry he did.

Legolas gently nudged his shoulder, something like concern shining in his piercing blue eyes, and Aragorn was quick to flash a smile; he himself could be worried, it was quite another thing to make his friends feel the same troubling emotion.

And so, before he could lose his nerve, he knocked.

From somewhere deep within the chamber, a serene voice bid them to enter. The four boys traded nervous glances and then quietly crept in.

Professor Elrond sat behind his desk, fingers clasped in front of him and an eyebrow raised.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you fine young boys tonight?"

There was a painfully awkward silence for a few moments as the youths traded panicked glances, but then Aragorn took a deep breath and spoke up, voice hesitant and small.

"We wanted to… tell you something, Dad."

The elder wizard leaned forward, brows furrowing. Aragorn resisted the urge to wipe at his forehead.

"And what would that be?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. The brunette tried to speak, but all the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. What if he told their tale and they all got in trouble? What if he spoke up and the man who he saw as a father looked at him with disgust? What if Elrond saw the rule breaking as _betrayal_?

 _What if he saw Aragorn as his grandfather?_

As it turned out, he would not have to speak. Legolas stepped forwards to stand more firmly besides him and put a hand on his shoulder. The blonde stared the professor straight in the eye, something earnest and bright shining in his own brilliant blue orbs.

"It concerns the Dark Lord. We think that he has a way of coming back, and that the way is hidden here, in the school."

The Ravenclaw spoke plainly, as if he was merely describing the weather, but there was something in his tense posture and the flare of his eyes that gave him away. That showed the true terror that flowed through his veins at such a thought

For a few minutes, there was silence. It was a piercing, echoing kind of silence, the kind that swallows up the entire room and drowns out even the slightest of noise. The kind that is so filled up with tension and questions that it almost feels like you can't breathe.

(At least, that's what it felt like to Aragorn.)

And then slowly, ever so slowly, Professor Elrond stood up and came to stand in front of the four boys, his brows furrowed and his stance tense, and every feature upon his face warning of an oncoming storm. It was clear to Aragorn that if they were playing a prank, they would be in serious, serious trouble.

But it wasn't a prank, so everything would be fine… Right?

"And _why_ do you say that?"

And so they spoke, pouring their souls into the story. They described the terrible events that occurred in the woods and the lingering feelings of death and terror the event brought with it. Legolas explained the rasping voices and Gimli told of their conclusion. Boromir and Aragorn spoke up when they could, adding in any information or points left out by accident.

None of them mentioned Beorn, for they feared the giant man might get in trouble if the professor knew of his help in their actions. They did not want to repay his kindness with betrayal.

(Aragorn was especially insistent.)

And once they were done, once the whole sorry tale was told, they went silent. Aragorn watched with anxious eyes as his father-figure frowned and narrowed his eyes. Watched as the man with whom he'd grown up with came to a conclusion, familiar grey orbs swirling with thought.

It was not a conclusion that he liked.

"Thank you for telling me this, boys. I must think on it."

And that was it. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Aragorn was turning to leave, shoulders slumped in dejection, when Boromir's outraged cry broke the silence.

"YOU MEAN YOU DON'T BELIEVE US!?"

He winced, turning around once more and watching as Boromir's face grew redder and redder with rage. The ginger's fists were clenching and unclenching, and his obvious anger was evident in his tensing posture.

"Didn't you hear anything we just said! This is serious! THE DARK LORD IS RETURNING! YOU BLOODY COWA-"

He got no farther before Gimli reached out and hooked an arm around his left elbow. Aragorn watched in startled silence as the shorter redhead slapped a hand on his taller counterpart's mouth with a resounding smacking sound and started to drag the other to the exit. Gimli, too, had a furrowed brow and a frustrated expression, but he did not turn around, instead simply slamming the door on the way out.

And then there were three.

Aragorn pulled at his collar, suddenly feeling rather claustrophobic, but did not move from where he stood. Besides him, Legolas stood as well, his back ramrod straight.

"We're telling the truth, you know. And you better actually think upon it long and hard, because otherwise you could be putting the whole world in a whole lot of danger. I know we're just kids, but that doesn't mean we don't know the gravity of the situation."

The blonde took a step closer to the stunned professor, icy blue eyes smoldering with a hidden fire.

"Don't let fear rule your actions professor, otherwise... we're all doomed."

And then he too turned and left without a word, leaving Aragorn alone with his father and a whole lot of tension.

He rubbed at the back of his neck.

"I do believe you, Aragorn."

Brilliant grey orbs snapped to meet Elrond's own in shock.

"I believe you. I've known that dark times were coming, I just did not expect them to come so soon."

The wizard stepped forwards, closer, and knelt before his son. His expression was intense, strong, nothing like the gentle comforting man that Aragorn knew. This was the face of a warrior.

"We all have a part to play in what is coming. You, especially, will help determine what events shall unfold."

Aragorn gulped.

"Keep your friends close, child, you shall need them before we reach the end, and they shall need you…"

And when Aragorn had left, the green door shutting softly behind him, leaving Elrond alone in his silent study, no one was left to hear the wizard's next muttered words.

"I am afraid that we shall _all_ need you, before the end."

 **...**

 ***NO NOTES FOR THIS CHAPTER***

 **So there you have it! I hope everyone enjoyed it!**

 **Huge THANK YOU to** **cyanstripedstrawberries and High King Gil-galad for following this story! I'm sorry for the long wait, and your support is really, really appreciated!**

 **To Andy the Willow Tree, Grey, and Vera Clayhorn; OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS HAVE BEAUTIFUL SOULS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS!**

 **To the lovely guests who have reviewed:**

 ** _To Grey_ : **Hey Grey! Thank you for your compliments; they are super sweet and I'm glad you found the story good. To answer your questions: Yes, the hobbits WILL be getting some more screen time- they'll be showing up in the next chapter, in fact- it's just that the main focus is on the other half of the fellowship currently because they are the group who are receiving the most action. Eventually, the two groups will come together and the screen time will be more evened out. (So yes, they shall join the friend circle; have no fears, I shall not break up the fellowship!) Anyways, I'm super glad that you have enjoyed the fic so far and I thank you deeply. *hugs* (Also, just in case you didn't know, your review showed up written in a fascinating number/letter combination. I am unsure if this was on purpose or not- if it was, that's actually pretty cool- but just in case is wasn't I thought I would put it up here. I was able to understand what it meant either way. :) )

 _ **To Vera:**_ _Hey Vera, yes, I a_ m still here. :) I was just taking a... leave of absence. I'm deeply sorry if I worried you in any way, shape, or form, and I hope this update brings peace to your heart. Thank you for your concern, though! It made me feel all fuzzy. :3 I'm glad that you have found my work to be good! It's always amazing when you get a review offering an opinion of your what you have written, especially if it's a positive one! (I'm also glad that you have found this particular Xover to be good!) So yes, I am alive and kickin' and I hope to be returning to my regular updating methods soon. Thank you for the review and your concern! *hugs* (PS: The fact that you haven't reviewed before does not lesser the impact of this review, it just makes it all the more special.)

 **So yes. I'm back now. :) And I'm hopefully here to stay. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thank you for taking the time to read Of Letters and Fellowships and Everything In Between!**

 **Until next time,**

 **\- Mashpotatoe Queen**


	11. Schemes and Dreams

**SEE! IT'S HERE! JUST LIKE I PROMISED! :D**

 **This story id dedicated to Andy the willow tree, who is absolutely fab! *bows to the awesomeness***

 **Hope you enjoy, everybody!**

 **...**

"I can't believe him! We go in there, tell him vital information, and he ignores us! IGNORES US! Can you believe his _nerve_!?"

Aragorn entered the little group right in the middle of Boromir's rant, and tried and failed to hush him. He glanced nervously around; it was almost time for light's out, and teachers tended to be picky about the bedtime.

"Let's take this to the library, guys."

To Aragorn's relief, Boromir and the others came with little complaint and upon their arrival they managed to sneak in past the librarian and find seats in a secluded corner.

Boromir leaned forwards, brow furrowed in righteous anger and voice echoing in a harsh whisper.

"I still can't believe your father, Aragorn. How could he just push us aside like that!? We have valuable informa-"

"He's scared."

The words, blunt and plainly spoken, came from Gimli. The redhead's face was angry, but not in the same sense as Boromir. There was a sadness to his anger, as if he lamented a terrible crime that happened a long, long time ago.

Upon seeing his companion's confused expressions, the Gryffindor elaborated.

"He's scared. My uncles get like that sometimes too. They're war heroes, ya know. Big ones too. Did a lot to make sure that the Dark Lord stays dead and gone. And sometimes, sometimes someone might suggest that that devil isn't really gone… they lash out. Say that the person is lying. Ignore their claims."

"I imagine that it's much the same with your father, Aragorn. Wasn't he a major military somethin' or another?"

Aragorn nodded in confirmation.

"Exactly! He's scared. Professor Elrond has probably seen enough death as it is because of the Dark Lord, and now he being told, by kids no less, that he's back. He doesn' want us to be tellin' the truth; he knows that it would mean a hell of a lot more hurt in the long run."

Aragorn was reminded vividly of Legolas' words in his father's chamber, "Don't let fear rule your actions professor, otherwise we're all doomed."

He wondered if Legolas was hinting to the same thing.

The blonde himself sat staring at Gimli silently, eyes piercing. Then he, too, spoke up, voice soft.

"My father is much the same."

He did not elaborate, did not explain just who his father was or just what his father had done. He did not explain any further than that, but he met Gimli's eyes and nodded, just once. The ginger returned the nod with one of his own, something of a bond forming between their familiar experiences.

"Sooo, what now?"

Boromir was the one who spoke, much calmer than before but with hints of anger still underlying his tone. Aragorn shrugged, still at lost as to what to do and wondering of Legolas and Gimli's strange mutual companionship.

(He also felt guilt. Guilt of the part his ancestor had to play in their families' torment. But he shoved it down. Shoved it away; it wasn't his fault. It wasn't.)

He would never get a chance to answer the question, however, for Legolas would answer far before he even had a chance to formulate a response. The blonde had leaned even further forward, eyes flaring with the same smoldering fire as before.

"We go to Gandalf, of course."

At the others' incredulous expressions, the Ravenclaw articulated his statement.

"Look. We went to Elrond, he wouldn't listen to us, so we'll go bigger. We'll go to the headmaster. Gandalf is bound to know what to do, and he's well known for his… eccentricity, so he'll probably believe us! And if we have the headmaster on our side, then everyone else is bound to believe us as well! We'll make some serious progress!"

There was silence for a few seconds as Boromir and Aragorn traded lost glances, but Gimli was upfront and gruff, not even pausing for a moment before he was leaning forwards and raising a brow.

"One problem, blondie; what do we do is Gandalf doesn't believe us?"

Legolas frowned, a small but definite quirk of the lips, and looked away for a few seconds, but then he was back, the fires in his eyes brightly burning.

"Then I guess will have to make some of our own progress."

As he leaned forwards, almost unwittingly the other three boys found themselves leaning forwards as well.

"And here's how we'll do it…"

* * *

Frodo sat on the couch, eyes blearily gazing at the flickering flames that rested in the fireplace. Beneath his eyes, dark bags had formed, and every once in awhile the boy would reach up and rub at them wearily.

He was tired.

But that didn't mean he could sleep.

For the last few days and nights, he had been plagued by an insomnia that would not leave him alone. Nothing he tried, _nothing_ , would allow him a full night of sleep, and the lack of it was causing him to be plagued with constant headaches and lapses of attention.

And he was so, _so_ tired.

And when he did sleep, it was never for very long, for the nightmares always found him. Always, _always_ found him, grabbed him, and drowned him underneath waves and waves and terror.

Nightmares of a burning eye and dark, skeletal hands reaching out and dragging him down, down, _down_ into the depths of forever. Nightmares of small screaming children and deep booming voices echoing through the expanse of his memory. Images of familiar faces, important faces, distorting in agony and being taken away by robed, darkened figures before Frodo even had a chance to find out just who they were.

 _Lost to the mist and dissolved into smoke, gaping mouths screaming, screaming, they were gone. All gone. And Frodo was all alone-._

He shuddered.

 _The eye was reaching for him now, looming and fiery and burning. It wanted it. It needed it desperately. And it would have it, it would, and there was nothing Frodo could do to stop it. He was going to die, everyone was going to die and-_

"Frodo?"

Frodo jerked away violently, nearly falling off the couch before he managed to catch himself. He whirled around, heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears and sweat stinging in his eyes. He looked up, icy blue orbs shining with a frantic light.

Worried brown eyes gazed steadily back.

"Frodo? You alright?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. There was no monster. No shadowy demons or burning flames. He was safe. He was _fine_.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine, Sam…"

There was a blanket of silence settling heavily on his shoulders, and Frodo almost wanted to scream, although he did not know why. Everything was so suffocating and he felt as if he was drowning and he was _so, so tired_.

There was a movement next to him and Frodo whipped his head around, suddenly realizing that he had entered a daze once more. There, sitting besides him, was Sam. The boy was sitting abnormally close and his brow was furrowed, as if in deep thought. Frodo attempted to look him in the eye and look as fine as possible but he obviously failed when Sam frowned even harder.

"You haven't been sleeping Frodo, and I'm starting to become really worried about you…"

Frodo said nothing.

Sam's face softened and he reached out to grab Frodo's hand, his own calloused palms incredibly gentle.

"What's wrong?"

His breath hitched, just a bit, but then he firmly shook his head. He wouldn't burden Sam with his own problems and worries. He _wouldn't._

"I-It's nothing, Sam. It's just… it's just something I have to go through alone."

The other boy nodded sagely, appearing to thoroughly consider what the other had just said. But, in the end, Sam was nothing if he was not loyal. Frodo should have realized.

"Of course, Frodo, I completely understand. Of course you're goin' through it alone, as long as I'm goin' along with ya.

And Frodo was quiet. He was quiet for a long, long time.

And when he did speak, when the traitorous words poured out of his mouth, he did not cry or shout or scream. He made no large dramatic scene or emotional set up. He just… spoke. And if his breath hitched or his eyes watered, if his throat choked up more than once or his attention stayed far too focused on his fingers… then that was simply because he was tired. Sam made no mention of it either way, so all would be well.

And later, much later, when the fire had burned low into smoldering ashes and Frodo's eyes were hardly open, cheek pressed against Sam's shoulder and something heavy and warm and all together comforting across his shoulders- _a blanket_ , he thought, _though not a suffocating silent one_ \- he thought he heard voices. But the voices were not those of shadowed demons or fiery monsters, but distant voices of friends. He didn't pay much attention, far too warm and drowsy to bother, but the familiar tones were comforting nonetheless.

 _"Is he alright, Sam?"_

 _"Yeah! Is he okay?"_

 _"What's wrong?"_

 _"Oh! Be quiet, boys, you'll wake him up! He's fine, I think, just dealin' with nightmares…"_

 _…_

 _"Can we stay?"_

 _…_

 _"Sure."_

And when he did wake up to the sun's early morning light peeking through the window, he was somehow unsurprised to find himself buried in a pile of Hufflepuffs. Pippin was snoring and Merry was muttering about the importance of carrot cake under his breath and Sam had somehow maneuvered himself until he was half-lying on the floor, but it was a lovely scene to wake up to either way. Frodo yawned, blinked, and curled into a tighter ball under the covers.

Somehow, the nightmares didn't seem quite so scary any more.

 **...**

 ***No Notes**

 **So there you are! I hope you all liked this chapter, guys! Grey, the Hobbits showed up this time! That bit was for you, my friend!**

 **To Harrison Orion Black, who was my lovely reviewer from chapter ten and who I am unable to PM back because of technical difficulties:**

Thank you so much for your review! You are a truly fabulous soul and I appreciate it greatly! :) I'm so glad that you liked the last chapter and I really hope that you liked this one too! (Also, I totally get what you mean by saying that it's so mean to hurt Aragorn but so fun at the same time, but then again, is that not true for all characters?) Did you enjoy the fluffy hobbit scene? I must admit I really, really enjoyed writing the fluffy hobbit scene! :) Anyways, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWWWWW! :D :D :D

 **Okay! I'm done now... See you next time guys! I hope you liked and thank you for reading!**

 **-Mashpotatoe Queen**


	12. Headway At Last

**Hey guys! I'm so sorry for the delay! In all honesty, I hit a writer's block for this story and so I mooched off and wrote some other things. I'm back now, though! :)**

 **This is just a quick update, but I like where it ended and so this is what you with have to deal with... Sorry bros. Next chapter will be longer, I promise!**

 **This story is written in honour of And the willow tree!**

 **...**

They needed to find the headmaster's office.

Or, at the very least, they needed to find the headmaster.

Two things that should have been rather simple but were actually very, very complicated tasks.

They had been trying for weeks, but to no avail. The teachers, upon asking, became tight lipped and told them that it was no business of theirs, and all attempts of following them to the office had so far been unsuccessful. And, despite their constant scouting expeditions- Gimli often complained about how they had seen every room in the castle- they had yet to find a room that could possibly be the one they searched for.

The headmaster himself was a very difficult man to find as well. He didn't show up at the dining hall as often as one would expect, busy or occupied with some responsibility or another. And when the wizened wizard did show up, he often was there to give announcements and their small party was never to able to corner him afterwards, the professor disappearing in thin air as if he had disapparated, something of which Legolas had assured the others was impossible to do in Hogwarts.

(But each time Professor Gandalf vanished without a trace the blonde's insistence faltered just a bit more…)

And so- three weeks before finals could commence- the group found themselves glumly sitting in the library, disheartened and disappointed, halfheartedly flipping through their textbooks in an attempt of studying. (They had, after all, given the teachers an excuse that they were a study group, to explain their random use of empty classrooms and their near constant presence in the library.) They had been completely unsuccessful in locating either the headmaster or his office, and were left wondering just what they would do with the vital information that they held.

Finally, after several minutes of miserable silence, Boromir shut his book with a solid thunk, catching all the others' attention.

"So, to Plan B, then?"

Everyone frowned; nobody liked Plan B.

They had decided, before everything else, if they were unable to get in contact with Gandalf the Grey for whatever reason, they would have to solve the case themselves. And if it got too far or got in too deep, they would get in contact with the ministry and see if they could get anyone to listen to them there, that, or go back to Elrond with further evidence.

And they had decided that their first step to solve the case would be to go back into the forest and poke around for clues, back into the place where the entire mess had begun.

It wasn't a fun thought.

Just then, the librarian- a middle-aged wizard called Erestor- swept past them.

"Anything you need, boys?"

They replied with a chorus of _No!'s_ and watched as Erestor wondered off to shelve some more books, but then, suddenly, Legolas' eyes widened.

"Wait! Professor Erestor! I have a question!"

The others shot the blonde confused and startled looks, but he paid them no mind. A brilliant idea had just formed in his head, one that may just shed some more light on the situation and finally give some long-sought answers.

Part of him wanted to whack himself for not thinking of it before.

Everyone knew that Erestor was obsessed with books, that he had read every book in his beloved library and more, and that if you had any questions about anything he was more than likely to know the answer.

Now, Legolas didn't want to get himself or his companions in trouble, and he didn't want Erestor to know what they were up to. What he had to was phrased his question as curious but as unimportant as possible…

But perhaps it was possible to add some urgency to his cause?

"What question do you have, Legolas?"

The blonde swept some hair behind his ears and tried to quickly think up a suitable question.

"Ummm… It's just, I saw a picture in one of my father's books. It was of a creature, robed in black. It… you couldn't see it's face, and in it's hand was an unearthly glow. Surrounding it, all the plants had died and frosted over... I just- I wanted to know if you knew what it was? Are there such creatures here in Hogwarts?"

The man frowned, as if trying to place the description in his memory, but then frowned. Legolas did as well, disappointed, but his hope was quickly revived when the wizard asked, "Can you draw it?"

At this point, the others had figured out just what the blonde was trying to do; classify the mysterious- if not horrifying- creature that they had seen in the woods in hopes that it would shed some light on their situation. They watched in anticipated silence as Legolas grabbed a spare piece of parchment and sketched out a quick- though admittedly impressive and detailed- drawing of the monstrous creatures they had seen in the woods that fateful day. When he was done, he slid the image across the table to older wizard, whose face blanched at the sight of it.

" _This_ is the image you saw?"

Legolas nodded hesitantly, pulling back as Erestor suddenly leaned forward.

"And are you sure, Legolas, that you only saw the image? This is a rather detailed sketch… and I have never heard of an actual picture being taken of one of these creatures."

Legolas stayed silent, eyes wide with panic; the situation wasn't going as planned.

There was a few few seconds of silence as the kids traded looks behind Legolas and Erestor's sudden unexpected intense staring contest, but then Erestor was straightening up, placing his pile of books on the table, and sweeping off with a swoosh of robes, drawing his wand all the while.

"Follow me."

Legolas blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and then quickly stood up as well, dashing after Erestor with only a second's pause to to grab the hasty sketch.

Aragorn shared a hesitant glance with the others before he, too, stood up, although he went at a much slower pace. Together, the confused group left the library and followed the librarian, Aragorn breaking out into a jog so that he could speak with the adult wizard.

"Umm. Professor Erestor? I'm sorry, sir, but-but it's getting late and it's almost lights out and are you- um, are you sure that we should be going… wherever were going?"

The librarian nodded, long robes sweeping across the floor at his quick pace, and said nothing.

Aragorn glanced back, looking for support, but Gimli and Boromir looked just as lost as he did and Legolas appeared to be absorbed in his thoughts- eyes trailing up and down the corridors as they passed through them- unaware of the world around him.

"Ummm, uh, sir? I- Where _are_ we going? That- that is, if you, um, don't mind telling me..."

Erestor glanced down at him.

"To Professor Gandalf's office, of course," he turned to the others, "Do keep up; we don't have all day!"

* * *

The office was huge.

It had high, sloping ceilings and bookshelves lining every wall. On every shelf and table, there was some knick knack or another, or a book, or a strange magical artifact that Aragorn had only ever seen in his books before. It was cacophony of mess that somehow wasn't messy, an organized chaos that made the whole place seem homey and warm and safe.

Aragorn liked it immediately.

And there, sitting at the head table and making small flares of color whoosh into air before disappearing into thousands of colorful sparks, was the headmaster.

Upon entering, Erestor politely cleared his throat, gave the children's backs a not-so-polite push towards the seated figure, and quickly left, abandoning the youths to their fate.

Nervously, the four headed up the the desk, eyeing the older man with trepidation in their eyes. They had been waiting for this moment for weeks, but now that they were there… they weren't sure what to say.

Then, slowly, silently, Legolas slid the sketch of the monster they had seen across to the professor. His face was pale, but there was a determination in his eyes.

"Sir… We have something to tell you…"

Professor Gandalf leaned forward on his desks, his eyes shining with a familiar twinkle.

"I'm listening."

 **...**

 **And there we have it! Our boys are finally making some headway!**

 **Sooo, my plan is to have this story stretch out over several years of Hogwarts. The first year is almost over, and that's the year I'm using to set up the story and introduce the characters and all that. Next year and the years after that should have a lot more action! :)**

 **To Silviaxl17: Thank you so much for your favorite and follow! :D Your support is super appreciated and I hope you know how much it means to me! :)**

 **Huge bif fat THANK YOUUUUUU to Harrison Orion Black, Rita Orca, and Andy the willow tree! You guys are so fabulous and I was so happy to hear your thoughts on the story! Thank you so much for your support!**

 **To Rita Orca:** Hello there! So happy to hear from you again! Thank you for your concern; everything's settled down now and I think I have found this little thing called being content, so all is well. Your comforting was really appreciated either way. Thank you. As for what happens to our troublesome quadruple after this, you'll just have to wait and see, eh? :) THANK YOU FOR YOUR REVIEWS! :D

 **I'll see you all next time!**

 **\- The Mashpotatoe Queen**


	13. Just a Hint of Magic

**Aha! Here you go!**

 **This fic is written in honor of Andy the willow tree! :)**

 **...**

The dorms were cleaned and their things were packed. The exhaustion that had been the finals was finally over, and four young students found themselves sitting in the center of the library in a quiet silence.

They had a lot to think about, after all.

Gandalf, upon hearing what they had to say, had sat back and stared at the four of them for several long minutes, brows furrowed in deep thought and eyes piercing in a sense that made you feel as your every secret was laid out before him to see. Nothing would be kept hidden, and no lies would pass through without being caught.

Then the man had nodded and said the words that unknowingly had changed their young lives forever.

" _I need your help, it seems. You all are to be- that is, if you accept my proposition- my eyes and ears within the castle walls. We must find this object that these creatures seek before the Dark Lord get's his hands on it, and whoever bears it... they must be dealt with."_

 _Immediately, the three Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw blanched; it was one thing to speculate and guess at dark things stirring in the woods, quite another to have their thoughts confirmed._

 _Gimli, Aragorn, and Boromir immediately burst into questions while Legolas watched on in silence._

" _You mean we were right? The Dark Lord is returning?"_

" _What are the creatures, Professor Gandalf? Do you know them?"_

" _What do you meant, 'dealt with'; are we going to have to_ kill _someone!?"_

 _The elder wizard had been quick to explain that based on their story, The Dark Lord was indeed returning, but that they could not yet be sure. That the creatures they described were Ringwraiths, terrible servants of the Dark Lord that had been corrupted and turned by evilness in the first Great War. He had also been quick to say that they would not be killing anyone any time soon, which offered little assurance, for just because it would not be happening soon did not mean it would not be happening._

 _Legolas had spoken up after the teal of words, eyes calculating and worried._

" _And what's the object that were looking for, Professor? You never said… But you know, don't you? Or, at least, you think you know."_

 _And the man's face had gone grim and serious, his next words deep and grave._

" _The One Ring, Legolas, I do believe that it has emerged."_

The One Ring. The One Ring that the Dark Lord had gained his immense power from. The Ring that had conquered armies and slayed millions. The One Ring to rule them _all_. It had returned. It was real. And it was in the castle.

And they were supposed to _find_ it.

But their group had found no answers nor rings the remainder of the year, despite their searches. And now their first year was over and they were to leave each other's company, alone with their knowledge until they returned.

It was not a pleasant thought.

Aragorn at last sighed and stood up, gesturing to the library door and their waiting luggage.

"I suppose it's no use to worry; we'll deal with it all next year."

The other nodded and stood as well; it was time to go.

They would deal with the mysteries of Hogwarts when it found them… and until then…

They could only wait.

* * *

The whistle was loud and piercing, but Frodo paid it no mind. Instead, he focused on giving hugs and goodbyes to his new friends.

They would be returning soon, but the idea of leaving the old castle left a subtle sadness in Frodo's heart; the place had become like a second home to him, despite the plaguing nightmares. He had many fond memories of reading by the fire and taking part of food fights in the mess halls, of learning fascinating, magical things that he would never see or know of in the simple little world that was the Shire. Of being a part of something _exciting_.

But still... it would be good to be home in the Shire once more, to spend time in his own room and with his uncle, to forget the fiery eye and rasping voices for a while. Perhaps he would finally be able to get a full night's sleep.

He hoped so.

Either way, it wasn't as if leaving Hogwarts would mean leaving his friends behind. There would be some new faces to say goodbye to, yes, but his closest companions would be returning to the Shire with him.

Sam was tugging at his sleeve, chatting excitedly about tending to his family's garden and his excitement to finally be with his little siblings again. Pippin and Merry were giving two small gifts to a boy with rusty red hair with suspiciously innocent smiles, and Frodo knew that the ginger was in for a nasty surprise.

The station was a hubble of hustle and bustle, but in those few moments, Frodo felt something like peace. This was the spirit of Hogwarts, a crazy mess that was somehow orderly and hundreds of people mingling as one. The teachers discussing last minute pieces of advice and the students waving their wands in their last spurs of magic. The smell of smoke in his nose and the taste of his last delicious meal on his tongue. The world twirling and spinning around him with just a hint of magic in the air was what Hogwarts was all about. This was home.

And as he boarded the train and offered his final waves and shouted goodbyes to the staff, he tried to ignore the heavy weight that had settled in his heart and in his pocket. A soft voice was telling him that next year, his time would not be so fun. That next year things would change.

He ignored the voice; things would surely be fine.

But beneath the fabric, a golden ring flashed; it was simply waiting for the right moment.

And it would not be waiting long.

* * *

Aragorn stared out the window, watching the world fly by. Legolas was in near tears as he laughed at Boromir, who was hastily wiping at his face, which had been slathered in blue and pink slime by a small pair of gifts he had received from some Hufflepuffs. The ginger had just been commenting on how kind they had been in giving him a parting gift when the present had exploded all over him. Gimli had left their little group to go and find his cousins, and he was sure to regret it when he heard what sight he had missed.

As for Aragorn, he laughed but a little, far too lost in his thoughts.

They were almost there.

And he had spent so long at Hogwarts that the idea of leaving, the idea of being alone in the grand property that was Imladris… it was not a fun one.

And to think, he had been so adamant against the idea of going to Hogwarts in the first place; now he didn't want to leave.

Because he knew that at home he would experience the looks and whispers as well, perhaps not to the same extent as at Hogwarts, but they would be there nonetheless. Except, in Imaldris he would have no one to stand besides him and glare at the offender. He would have no one to offer protection or comfort.

He would be alone.

And if there was one thing Aragorn hated, it was to be alone.

They pulled into the station and Aragorn almost got lost in the huge hustle and bustle that was the families and friends and parents trying to find their children and saying goodbye or hello. The noise was chaos, but it was a good kind of noise, and Aragorn found himself giving Boromir a fierce hug before the other dashed off to find his younger brother and father. Legolas had vanished into the crowds, saying something about having to find where Arod had gotten off to, and Aragorn failed to locate him.

He didn't find Gimli either, but their goodbyes had already been said.

And then his own older brothers were swooping down upon him, guarding his either side and prompting him towards the column that was the father would be apparating soon to meet them, and they were to be already waiting.

Aragorn felt almost numb. It was over. It was all over, and his friends had left him now and he wouldn't get to see him again for _months_. He would be alone. And who was to say that they would still _be_ friends when they returned next year? A lot of things could happen on a few months.

They were just walking across the platform when he heard his name.

"Aragorn!"

He turned around and there was Legolas, all blinding smiles and swinging blonde hair. The boy had grown taller over the year, and his face was not so drastically pale- most likely because of his near constant time outside and in the trees, climbing to ridiculous heights that had Aragorn's heart in his throat- but he was still Legolas.

He was still Aragorn's friend.

Behind the blonde was an older man with a straight-back posture and startling intense blue eyes. His face was pinched in what appeared to be a permanent frown, but the striking resemblance with his friend's could not be ignored.

Strange, he had thought his friends dad to be more… friendly looking. More like Legolas.

But Legolas was smiling and pulling him into a hug and Aragorn couldn't bring himself to be bothered.

"I'll see you next year, yeah? And I think I might be able to get my dad to arrange a meet-up sometime during the summer, if it's okay with yours."

And Aragorn smiled, because it appeared his fears were again unfounded.

"I'd like that."

And Legolas was rushing back to his father, throwing a wave as he went, and Aragorn was waving back as well, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

"See you! Make sure to keep in touch!"

Somehow, things were going to turn out alright.

At least, that was what he hoped.

Little did he know, however... his hopes would be unfounded.

 **...**

 **And that's the first year done, folks! Tell me what you thought! Next year, a lot more action is going to start up and the story is really going to get into gear. We'll be seeing more fighting and there will be QUIDDITCH; YAAAAAY!**

 **Special thanks to stormpiper, thatsmartchick, and Silviaxl17, who are amazing and beautiful and Favorited/Followed this story! You guys are FANTABULOUS!**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope to be hearing from you all soon! :) Thank yous o much for taking the time to read Of Letters and Fellowships and Everything In Between!**

 **Until next time!**

 **-Mashpotatoe Queen**


	14. Not the Best of Begginings

**Hello, my peeps! Sorry this is a day late!**

 **As always, this story is written in honor of Andy the willow tree, who is FANTABULOUS!**

 **Hope you all enjoooooooOOOOY!**

 **...**

Gimli couldn't help but grin as he spotted the familiar head of rusty red hair. Boromir was talking with his father, a restrained expression on his face, already dressed in Hogwarts robes and gripping the wrist of a smaller kid that could only be his younger brother. In all honesty, Gimli had heard so much about Faramir that he almost felt as if he knew the boy, when in reality they had never met.

"Boromir!"

His fellow Gryffindor turned around, a mix of surprise and confusion painting his face, but upon catching sight of Gimli the expression melted away into a brilliant smile.

His father said something, drowned out by the chaos of that was the Hogwarts Express train station, but judging by the man's pinched expression it was probably reprimand. Boromir gave Gimli a sheepish smile before turning his attention back to the conversation; reunions and introductions would have to wait.

Unable to talk with Boromir, Gimli wandered back to his own little troupe. His cousins, Kili and Fili, were grudgingly standing still as their mother, Dis, fussed over them. The woman, for all her motherliness and cheerfulness, was absolutely downright terrifying when she wanted to be, and no one knew that better than her two sons.

A little ways away was Gimli's own mother, along with his father, Gloin. They had promised to guard his trunk while Gimli had wondered off to try and locate his friends.

Scattered amidst them were the various teachers that would be apparating to Hogsmeade so that they could get to the school in the next few minutes or so. Balin- who taught History- was chatting amiably with his brother Dwalin, who taught Potions, and judging by the loud booming voice echoing throughout the station, Dain Ironfoot was most likely somewhere nearby as well. It was an odd tradition in Gimli's family; the teachers left for Hogwarts at the station as well, not just the students.

When Gimli had asked, they had said it was for sentimental reasons

And in the front of the group, talking lowly with the curly haired herbology professor- _Mr Boggins, was it? No, Mr. Baggins…_ \- was Thorin Oakenshield, esteemed hero of the Great War.

Thorin rarely made his way out into public- reporters were hidden everywhere- and Gimli wondered what had convinced him to join their little gathering at the train station. He also wondered why Thorin was speaking with the _herbology teacher_ \- whose personality was, as far as Gimli could tell, as far away from Thorin's as humanly possible- of all people, but he didn't ask.

His uncle was one of those glaring, scary people that was incredibly private and incredibly difficult to approach.

He and Gimli were never close, but the elder wizard was still family. They were all family.

And so, when Gimli's entire family straightened and tensed as one, Gimli was understandably confused and more than a little worried. And perhaps filled with the righteous protection anger that would fill any twelve year old upon sensing a threat to his loved ones...

He was also understandably confused when, upon following the angry gazes, the presumed threat turned out to be a certain annoying young blonde that Gimli knew.

Legolas was talking with an older man- presumably his father, based on their incredibly similar looks- good naturally rolling his eyes at the elder as he pushed his trolley filled with his luggage along. It was then that the tall blonde man caught sight of their group and came to a stop, eyebrow arching coolly.

Gimli instantly hated him.

Legolas appeared confused at the sudden interruption, giving his father a questioning look as he stepped out from behind his trolley, but upon following the man's gaze he spotted Gimli.

The redhead was rather surprised when Legolas gave him a small smile along with a wave; they weren't really friends.

Still, it was a better greeting than Gimli expected, so he couldn't complain.

It didn't stop his confusion on why his family was so vehemently staring at the blonde's father, or why the blonde's father was returning the gaze with such fierceness.

"Thorin Okensheild… A _pleasure_."

His uncle's face was darkened into a stormy state of displeasure, and Gimli hesitantly inched around him to stand by his parents.

"Thranduil."

Gimli blinked.

Well, that explained it.

Thranduil, who was the reason his family had lost everything in the war. Thranduil, who had caused so much strife for his uncles. Thranduil, who had locked his beloved family up in his dungeons. Thranduil, who had been _a servant to the Dark Lord_.

Thranduil, who was Legolas' _dad_.

An instant wave of fury washed over him, and he found himself glaring at the elder man just as angrily as the rest. When Legolas gave him a slightly confused look, Gimli didn't even bother changing his expression.

Legolas Greenleaf was a lie. He was a traitor, just like his traitor dad. He gave himself a different last name and pranced into the school as if he had any right to be there. This guy's father had probably killed some of the student's relatives. Legolas might have been working for the Dark Lord the entire time, telling him all their secrets and all about the information they had discovered.

And Legolas was probably just as bad as his dad.

His family had suffered so, so much from the wretched man before him, and Gimli had spent the majority of his last year hanging out with his son, not even knowing their relation.

He felt anger and horror and maybe possibly a little bit betrayed, but most of all he felt anger. Legolas was looking more and more confused, but that was probably just another ploy. Just another thing to make him seem un-monster like.

The conversation between Thorin and Thranduil was getting more and more intense, his uncle's faces getting stormier and stormier with every passing second even as both of their voices rose to higher and higher levels.

They were starting to attract stares.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, the herbology professor appeared besides Thorin. The curly haired brunette placed a hand- calloused from years and years of gardening- on the taller wizard's shoulder. Gimli almost felt sorry for the guy- Thorin does _not_ like to be touched- but he felt his jaw dropping soon after when, upon receiving the death glare of doom, the herbology professor simply raised an eyebrow.*

It dropped even farther when Thorin, instead of responding with anger or violence, seemed to slump into himself, all righteous frustration and ill will seemingly leaving him. Obviously, the herbology professor knew the war hero far better than Gimli had thought.

Thorin let out a grunt and then turned his back on Thranduil, wishing the tall blonde the curtest and most obviously halted, "Good day," in history.

Thranduil murmured something to his son and was then gone with a swish of his robes, disappearing into the crowd.

Looking terribly confused, Legolas shot Gimli one last questioning look before grabbing the trolley and hurrying after him.

In the bustling halls of the station, a piercing whistle blew.

It was time to board the train.

* * *

Gimli had been _intending_ to go and sit with his cousins. He had been _intending_ to sulk and grit and maybe even rant for a while before he went anywhere near Legolas again. But then Boromir was at his side and laughing and patting him heartily on the back, saying he was happy to see him again and corralling Gimli down the narrow corridors to the compartment where they were all sitting so that he could meet Faramir.

He let himself get swept up in the greetings and the excited chatter, and before he knew it he was sitting in the same compartment as Boromir and Aragorn and all the rest, which wouldn't have been a problem if Legolas was not included in that 'all the rest'.

As it was, the blonde was there, and Gimli felt his anger start to boil inside of him.

Traitor. Liar. _Murderer_.

(There was a small part of his mind that told Gimli that it was very likely that the blonde did, in fact, have no such record on him. But his heart was too angry and hurt to put rational thought on such a thing, and so that small part was ignored.)

Gimli wasn't sure what exactly happened.

They had been talking, chatting about how their summer's had gone and what they had been doing. And the whole time Gimli's anger just grew and grew inside of him, the mental image of people and family whom he had never met, and whom he would never get a chance to meet, being burned to the ground in front of him as Thranduil walked away without even _bothering_ to help, scorching his mind again and again and again.

And Legolas had started talking, saying something that started out with, "My father and I went-"

Gimli never let him finish his sentence.

"To go and ruin some people's lives, I suppose. Maybe go and give secret messages to the Dark Lord about our every activity? Go _kill_ people?"

Legolas, who had had his hands in the air in some dramatic gesture or another, slowly lowered them.

" _Excuse me?_ "

Instead of making him feel shame or making him rethink his actions, the words just made him angrier.

"Yeah. That's right. I know your secret now. When were you going to tell us!?"

Aragorn looked rather confused, cautiously looking between Legolas and Gimli while Boromir and Faramir watched with wide eyes besides him.

"Tell us _what_ , Gimli?"

Gimli looked at Aragorn and then back at Legolas, pointing an accusing finger straight at the blonde.

"That his father's a bloody _SERVANT OF THE DARK LORD!_! THAT'S WHAT!"

 _Silence._

Dead silence.

Legolas was staring wide eyed at Gimli, mouth slightly open in shock and hands now lying utterly expressionless on his lap. It was almost odd to see the blonde so still, but Gimli's frustration didn't let him take the chance to care.

Then, slowly, the blonde sat up straighter in his seat. His glare was made of pure ice, and his hands began to curl into fists.

"My father… was _not_ a servant of the Dark Lord."

Gimli huffed.

"Don't even _try_ to trick us anymore. Everyone who has half a mind knows that Thranduil Oropherion was a deceitful wizard who worked for the Dark Lord. _Everyone._ "

Legolas' eyes narrowed even further, and the blonde leaned forwards so that his words could be more clearly heard, even though their cabin was filled only with complete silence.

"And anyone with an _actual_ brain would know that he was a spy within the Dark Lord's ranks, who was truly working for Gandalf the Grey the entire time and provided crucial information for the war effort."

Gimli's eyes narrowed as well, and before he even realized what he was doing he was standing up, glaring down at the blonde as if he was the dirtiest piece of scum he had ever seen.

"Your dad is a _bloody traitor_ and a _bloody coward_. He _killed_ for the Dark Lord. He _lied_ for the Dark Lord. He was the Dark Lord's _right hand man_. That sounds quite a bit like being a servant to the Dark Lord to _me_!"

Legolas was on his feet now, too, glaring full out. The others in the small compartment were staring at the scene with wide, wide eyes and in shocked silence.

"My Ada," the blonde hissed, "saved hundreds of lives. _Hundreds_ of them."

Gimli growled. How dare Legolas say such a thing. How _dare_ he? Thranduil obviously didn't lift a single finger to save anyone of the city of Erebor.

"Your father is nothing more than a murderer. My entire home," and Gimli hated how his voice cracked, "was _destroyed_ because of his betrayal. He's a liar and a murderer and the worst sort of coward. You say he saved hundreds? Think he's a hero? How come he didn't save Erebor, huh? Why didn't he save any of _them_."

Legolas opened his mouth, but Gimli wasn't done.

"And you're just the same. You're a liar and a coward and a traitor and- And why on earth did you even come to Hogwarts, eh!? Trying to trick us all by changing your last name… bloody coward. Were you planning on burning Hogwarts to the ground, _too!_?"

As Gimli spoke, his words grew louder and louder, angrier and angrier. And as he spoke, Legolas shrunk further and further into himself.

This time, it was Legolas' turn to have his voice crack.

"My father- My _Ada_ did the best that he could. And I came to Hogwarts because I wanted to spend time away from the man who mourns the death of _every single person he couldn't save_ every single day of his miserable life. Because I thought I might be able to make _friends_."

The blonde grabbed Arod's cage- ignoring how the owl hooted softly in surprise at the sudden movement- and stormed to the compartment door, which he swung open with a brilliant slam.

He paused in it's frame, though. Not turning around, but simply standing there, still.

"And Gimli?"

His voice was suspiciously shaky.

"Don't talk to me about the loss of Erebor as if you has lived there. You weren't even _born_ when that happened."

And then he walked away, free hand coming up to wipe at his eyes as he left.

There was silence in the compartment, heavy and thick, and Gimli tried to pretend that it was natural. Tried to pretend as if his stomach weren't trying to eat him from the inside out.

His whole life, Gimli had heard stories. Stories of the terrible Thranduil and the terrible crimes against all of humanity. His whole life, he had been told of a grand city of stone and gold, and the wonderful lives its people had led. His whole life, Gimli had been imagining pictures of hundreds and hundreds of faces… burned to ashes.

His whole life, Gimli had felt the incredible pressure of burning grief. It was a large weight to hold...

(He ignored the small voice in his head that said it was the grief that he had just taken out on Legolas. Ignored the voice that whispered that Legolas hadn't even been alive when Erebor burned, too. Ignored the quiet mental replay of the blonde's hurt eyes, suspiciously wet, flashing with their own grief over and over again.)

Aragorn slowly stood up and came to sit down next to the red head.

"You know, Gimli, I got to hang out with Legolas this summer…."

His reply was gruff and short; he didn't feel much like talking.

"So what?"

"You know what he said? He said that he was going to try really hard this year. That he was tired of getting in petty arguments for no reason. That he wanted to be friends with you."

Gimli didn't answer.

"Did you know that I was the heir of Isildur? Does that make me responsible for all his crimes in your mind, too?"

Again, no response.

Aragorn sighed, slwowly standing up and heading to the compartment door. He paused briefly, though, to look back upon the stubborn redhead in the corner seat.

"Just… think about it, yeah?"

Gimli turned and looked out the window.

Behind the pair, Faramir traded a confused and worried glance with his older brother, but Boromir simply sighed and shrugged; he didn't really know what just happened either.

What he did know, however, was that their second year of Hogwarts was not off to the best of starts.

 **...**

 **Sooooo? Tell me what you think! Ima very curious about your thoughts on the work.**

 **Notes:**

 ***** You know, I have this huge backstory planned out for this world's version of The Hobbit, and at some point or another I am going to have to type it all up. Probably AFTER I finish this huge massive project. :) Anyways... here's just a hint of what might have happened!

 ****** Okay, I didn't find a specific point for this but here it is; NO SHAMING ON GIMLI, YEAH!? He has an entire lifetime of hearing and cultivating hate against the Oropherion family, and he's just learned the guy he had been hanging out with and was his sort of friend/ally thing was a part of it. The negative emotions are not going to just all go away in the span of a few minutes.

 **Huge THANK YOU to Guebwiller for favoriting and favoriting this story, and GINORMOUS HUGS for Andy the willow tree and WriterGirl7673,who were my lovely reviewers from the last chapter!**

 **So yes; I hope you all enjoyed! There shall definitely be more on the Hobbits next chapter, so you can all look forward to that!**


	15. And Above All Else, Have Faith

**Hello, my tater-tots! (Heh, heh, you get it? Mashpotatoe Queen- Tater-tots? No? Okay...) I'm sorry this is a few days late; I am busy, busy, busy!**

 **THIS STORY IS WRITTEN IN HONOUR OF FABULOUS ANDY THE WILLOW TREE!**

 **Anyways! I hope you enjoy! :)**

 **...**

Frodo clapped hard as yet another Hogwarts student was sorted. It was a nice feeling, knowing that he was no longer at the bottom of the food chain- although in all honesty second year was not much better than a first year- but it was also a little humbling. He now had a job to be responsible and set an example for the first years.

But then again…. Seeing Pippin stick two carrot sticks up his nose and then make ridiculous faces at Merry, who cackled evilly even as he reached out to remove the offending orange objects….

Perhaps the First Years would be better off getting advice somewhere else….

Frodo, suddenly feeling a piercing glare on his back turned back around. At the high table, the professors were talking with one another and politely clapping with every new student. Elrond was helping a young black haired girl onto the stool, only to help her off moments later when the hat almost immediately yelled Slytherin. Frodo watched as the girl quickly thanked the Transfiguration teacher and skipped off to her table.

No one had been looking at him.

The second year frowned, reached down to grab at his pocket only to stop himself halfway through; the ring wasn't there.

Halfway through the summer, his uncle had come up to him, asking if he could borrow the ring for a trip he was going on. Frodo had agreed, confused as to why Bilbo would need such a thing in the first place but too polite to ask.

And the half troubled expression on his uncle's face had convinced him his decision to not pester had been right.

His uncle had vanished occasionally all summer long, gone for a day only to return just in time for dinner. Occasionally, the herbology professor would send Frodo off to Sam's for a night or two while he went out, "On business."

It had been an odd experience, to say the least, and now Frodo was without his ring and with every passing day there was a growing itch at the back of his mind.

He wouldn't say anything, though, not until the itch turned into a scream.

He was startled from his thoughts when Merry and Pippin started cheering incredibly loud, enthusiastically clapping and jumping up and down in their seats. Frodo shot a questioning glance at Sam, but his fellow Hufflepuff looked just as confused as he felt. Without any more options, he nudged the older of the two and asked just _what_ they were going on about.

Merry, grin pulling at his cheeks, gestured enthusiastically to the front of the hall, where a young lad with rusty red curly hair was tentatively pulling himself onto the wooden stool.

"It's Boromir's younger brother! Boromir just goes on and on and on about him and we wanted to give him a warm welcome- GO FARAMIR!"

The pair did fall respectfully silent as the hat was slowly lowered down on the apprehensive first year's head. The hat sat there, silent and thinking, as the four houses waited with rising anticipation.

To pass the time, Frodo glanced towards the Gryffindor table, seeking Pippin and Merry's renowned Boromir with his eyes. He spotted him a little of the ways down the table, his own eyes glued to his little brother.

Next to him was another lad, one with a head of vibrant red hair and a highly grumpy expression on his face, as if he had been woken up by small slugs nesting in his hair- an experience that Frodo himself had been forced into, due to Merry and Pippin's antics- and his friends had laughed and teased him about it all day long. Or as if he had been forced into one particularly horrid situation after another, and was seriously fed up with it.

Either way, he looked _very_ unhappy.

On Boromir's other side was a dark haired boy who was staring up at the front with polite expectation but who kept glancing worriedly towards the Ravenclaw table.

It took Frodo a few moments to put a finger on who he was, but with a shock he realized it was Aragorn King…. And wasn't Boromir the one who so grievously hated on him at the beginning of the first year? What had changed?

Either way, Frodo was glad that the other boy had friends.

It was then that the hat finally made it's decision, startling Frodo out of his thoughts with a loud shout.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Faramir got off the seat, a small smile on his face, and gave a wave to his older brother, which Boromir enthusiastically returned. The newly dubbed Ravenclaw then headed to his table, his gaze casting nervously around before settling on the pale blonde second year that was so often seen at the Gryffindor table, defying all traditional 'rules' that the school celebrated so fiercely. (When Frodo had first seen the flash of blue amidst the sea of red, he had been terribly confused, but over time it had become natural.)

The redhead hesitantly walked up to the blonde- Legolas, was it? Frodo wasn't too sure, having spent very little time with the other...- apparently asking something and grinning when the older scooted to the side, making room for him. They started up a brief conversation, and then Professor Elrond was calling out the next student's name- once more interrupting his thoughts- and their eyes turned to the front.

Frodo's eyes followed, watching as a young girl with brilliant blonde curly hair- not the pale, almost white blond hair that Legolas had, but that of a fierce gold- was sorted into Gryffindor. The girl, blue eyes piercing, had smiled wicked sharp, making her confident way down the stairway and rushing to sit down next to a far taller and bulkier lad, who had the same shining golden hair.

The older boy- he had to have been in fourth year, at the very least- had roared his cheer incredibly loudly when the girl first was sorted into the same House as him. Frodo wondered if they were related.

Eventually, the line of first years dwindled down, and finally- _finally_ \- they were allowed to eat.

Well, not quite.

First there was the welcoming speech.

Professor Grey was smiling, calmly explaining the rules of Hogwarts for all who had never heard them before, going further and introducing the teachers before closing with a simple, eloquent speech.

"Now…," it was odd, Frodo had always thought the headmaster's eyes had more of a spark to them than they did as he said his closing words, "I know you have been sorted into your Houses. These Houses, as you well know, shall be your home, your family, in your time spent here at Hogwarts. Cherish them. However… just because your House is your family, does not mean the other Houses cannot be your friends. Remember, all the Houses- be it Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor- make up a whole. Together, we are Hogwarts, and we are strong. Divided, we are simply a group of misfits... Let not petty differences break the bonds of trust, and above all else, have faith…"

There was silence in the Great Hall, the students and teachers looking about with curious, worried looks on their faces. They felt the gravity of the Headmaster's words, and- based on the elder man's dire expression- the speech was not an flippant warning. There was something going on at Hogwarts… something that only the Headmaster could sense.

And it was not something good.

Before anyone could think too deeply on his words, however, Gandalf spoke up once more.

"And now, for the feast!"

And with a clap of his hands and a twinkle in his eyes, plate upon plate of food appeared on the tables, weighing down the wood with delicious treats. There was everything and anything, salads and roasts, burgers and pies, fruits and cheese and fresh bread... and anything the mind could imagine.

And after several moments of appreciative silence, staring at the absolute enormous mountains of food in front of them, they ate.

But with every bite… with every munch of food and every greeting Frodo gave to his housemates, both new and old, something the headmaster had said played at his mind.

He thought of it all through dinner and all through dessert, as he chatted with his friends and laughed at Merry and Pippin's antics.

The words were there as Gandalf dismissed them all and the Prefects started to usher them out of the Grand Hall, like shepherds herding little sheep.

The words echoed in his brain as they all tiredly stumbled off to bed, and they tittered pattered across his dreams as he finally placed his weary head on the soft, soft pillow.

" _Let not petty differences break the bonds of trust, and above all else, have faith…"_

His mind wandered…

Down dark hallways and deep chanting voices, Frodo wandered in his dreams. The world around him was insubstantial- ghosts of carved stone and winding passageways under his transparent fingertips- and he himself was fading in and out of existence, as if he wasn't even really there.

He was in a large cavern, ominous and deep, and the world was wavering shades of grey and black, disappearing from his view only to flicker once more into existence. All around him, a gruff voice chanted in words that he couldn't understand but still caused shivers to run up and down his spine. There were figures in the background, shadows that were reaching, _reaching for him_. Something deep in the cavern sparked and roared into a flame, the voices rising into a crescendo, dragging itself from the earth deep below. burning everything with hellish fire.

The beast has awoken…

And it was hungry.

Suddenly, the figures turned on him, the beast falling into the chasm before it had fully formed. It fell not back into sleep, however; it was waiting, waiting for its chance to arise once more.

The shadowy creatures swooped down on him, shrieking in rage and in glee, intent on capturing him.

Frodo screamed, turned tail and ran, but the cavern never ended, stretching out in front of him as the figures drew closer and closer, their foul speak burning his ears. They were reaching for him, and he had to escape, _he had to escape!_ -

He was sitting upright in his bed, breathing hard and fast. Around him, his friends slept on, unaware of the danger that lurked… biding its time in the dark.

And as Frodo settled himself down once more, trying to convince himself that it was simply a nightmare, the words echoed once more through his mind…

" _Let not petty differences break the bonds of trust, and above all else, have faith…"_

...And he wondered just what the Headmaster had meant.

 **...**

 **So yeah! Here you go! I hope you all enjoyed and that this was chapter was up to par!**

 **NOTE: Because of my busy schedule, I won't be able to update for the next couple of weeks. After that, I should get back to the normal updating schedule. I'm sorry for the delay, and I hope you understand! :) This story is NOT abandoned; have no fear! Just a brief hiatus.**

 **HUGE list of thanks to give; SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORTS GUYS!**

 **Big fat thank you to Flover24, RoyalRose161, 1CaptainObvious, children of prophecies, and Perper37 for favoriting/following! You guys are amazing and I am so happy you enjoyed!**

 **Another absolutely GINORMOUS THANK YOUUUUUU to my lovely reviewers; WriterGirl7673, Flover24, and Andy the willow tree! You guy's reviews really, truly brightened my day and I am so happy to have heard your thoughts! *hugs***

 **So yeah! Thank you for reading and I hope everyone enjoyed!**

 **-Mashpotatoe Queen**


	16. Quidditch Tryouts

**HELLLLLOOOOOO THERE! :)**

 **I AM ALIVE!**

 **WOOHOOOO!**

 **Thanks to Andy the willow tree; SHE/HE IS AMAZINGGGGG!**

 **...**

The fields were packed with people, older and younger and people from Ravenclaw and people from other houses. It was chaos, laughter and yelling and broomsticks zooming by as the stands filled with more and more students. The captain of the Ravenclaw team, a fifth year by the name Haldir, was organizing lines for the various positions, trying to be heard over the jostling crowd. The twins, Elladan and Elrohir, had started off a small firework, and it was zooming through the people's feet and making them jump out of its way, causing even more cacophony as they let loose surprised shrieks.

Legolas loved it.

With his broom over his shoulder and a smile on his face, he made his way through the masses and towards Haldir, occasionally ducking under people's stray arms and dodging the occasional body; it was all in the days work, when you were a small second year in a massive field of older people.

Who may or may not all be trying out to be a part of the Quidditch team, just as Legolas was. Who may or may not all have far more experience and were bigger and stronger and probably a better pick in the eyes of the captain.

But that was okay, he wasn't nervous.

At least, not much.

He had spent a lot of time last year sneaking out and going to watch the Ravenclaw team- and sometimes the other teams, if he could- practice, in his free time. He didn't make it obvious, just sat quietly at the bottom of a colorful stand with his notebook, keen eyes surveying the different maneuvers and tactics the team used, jotting down what he knew and what he didn't.

His father had always been against Legolas playing any sort of sports, fearing injury and seeing it as a waste of time. Legolas, on the other hand, had always been fascinated with them, reading everything he could get his hands on. Quidditch, although not as much as an obsession as it appeared to be in Hogwarts, was pretty big in Beauxbatons, and Legolas had taken every opportunity offered when it came to riding another kid's broom.

(He was obsessed with the feeling of freedom that came with being in the air, _flying_ and zooming far away from all earthly cares. Up in the air, it was like he was suddenly able to breath properly. And no one could stop him, the rush, the excitement, it would thrum in his blood and then he would drop. Just… drop. Freefall. He nearly gave his father a heart attack one time, flying high enough to touch the tip of one of the towers before dropping, pulling up only at the last possible second…)

Over the break, Legolas had received his first real broom, and he had practiced like mad with it; he intended to put it to good use.

Legolas knew he was good. He knew that he was small, but he was also fast… and he had an _excellent_ shot.

Now he just had to prove it.

"'Scuse me? You're the captain right?"

Haldir was a tall lad, all lean muscle and sharp features. He had blonde hair, like Legolas did, except his hair was of a darker shade and was much shorter, cutting off around his ears. With calculating grey eyes, the elder looked the younger up and down, seeing the broomstick and the pale golden strands pulled back into a neat braid. Legolas just stared up at him, patient, waiting for him to finish his inspection; he knew that the fifth year wouldn't be used to a second year trying out, and that he would have to seem as mature as possible to get a chance.

"Yes."

Legolas grinned.

"I was wondering which line I had to stand in to try out for the Chaser position."

Haldir continued to stare at him, as if bewildered, but then nodded towards one of the longest lines on the field, only shorter to the Seeker line.

(Legolas had considered trying out for that position as well, but in the end had decided against it; he wanted to play Quidditch, not play Quidditch and be a star. From what he had seen, every expectation lied mainly on the Seeker, and the idea of having so much attention and pressure on himself… it was not a fun one. He decided to go for Chaser instead, because it would use his talents and he wouldn't draw as much attention to himself.)

He gave a parting wave and jogged to the extended line, realizing along the way that the crowds were finally starting to find their seats and settle down; the tryouts were about to begin.

"You trying out, short stuff?"

Legolas looked up, seeing the two nameless older boys leering down at him.

"Yes."

The brown haired one did a doubletake, as if he had been expecting more of reaction from the blonde, but then a frown marred his features once more and he was leaning in, far too close to Legolas' face to be comfortable.

He didn't lean back however, instead standing perfectly still and looking the brunette right in the eye, painting a positively bored expression on his face. These two boys were simply nobodies, trying for attention and picking on smaller kids because they liked feeling bigger and stronger, and because they knew they could get away with it.

Legolas wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

The black-haired kid spoke up next.

"The kiddies league isn't being held here today, I'm afraid mommy dropped you off at the wrong field, blondie."

They laughed, deep ugly laughs-mocking laughs- that really shouldn't be called laughs at all, and patted each other on the backs as if they had made the funniest joke in the world. Legolas himself suppressed a wince; that one had hurt, if only because his mother was long dead.

Especially after that _spectacular_ argument with Gimli...

"I'm quite sure I'm in the right place, thank you."

 _Kill them with kindness, Legolas, kill them with kindness._

They laughed again, as if being polite was hilarious, and then the brunette was leaning in far too close to be comfortable, _again_.

Despite this Legolas was suppressing a smile, for he alone noticed the slightly concerned, slightly miffed, captain heading their way.

He looked the brunette straight in the eye, calculating the perfect line for his purposes.

In the end, he went simple; sometimes the thing that made people angriest was the simple truth, nothing more, nothing less.

"You two are jerks, you know that?"

They both colored red while Legolas just smiled pleasantly at them, even as they physically lifted him off the ground in anger.

Then, at the last possible moment, Legolas morphed his face into one of fear.

Haldir arrived, flying above him on his broomstick, frown marring his features.

"What's going on here?"

Legolas was promptly dropped back onto the ground, but that was alright; he landed on his feet. He then swiftly stooped down and grabbed his broomstick- which he had accidently let goof upon being lifted into the air- glancing back up at Haldir and speaking before the other boys even had a chance to formulate an answer.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here, captain Haldir! I was just standing in line and these two guys just jumped me! For no reason!"

Haldir turned his disapproving gaze on the two older students.

"I'm sorry, but I can't accept people with tempers on the team, not to mention people who attack others with no valid reason. You're going to have to leave tryouts."

The boys' sputters were overridden.

"Don't complain; I'm not going to a teacher, am I?"

And so the boys left, leaving Legolas alone and brushing off imaginary dirt from his clothes at the end of a long line of possible Chasers to be and more than a few people staring at him. Haldir was looking down at him especially carefully, watching as he nonchalantly swiped at his broom and slowly forming the conclusion that Legolas wanted him to come to.

"You weren't actually scarred at all, were you?"

Legolas finally looked up, an impish look on his face.

"Nope."

Haldir stared down at him for a few moments before breaking out into a short laugh, the good kind of laugh, and shaking his head as he turned his broom to officially start up the tryouts.

"I like you kid, you've got spunk."

Legolas gave a flourishing bow.

"I try, I try."

And then Haldir was gone and Legolas was on his own… again.

He had been avoiding the others of the little troupe as if they carried the plague. He wasn't sure why… it had only been Gimli who was a jerk, but he just… He didn't want to associate with them. They were there. They saw his outburst and Gimli's outburst and the whole sorry argument and it was ridiculous, but that was how it was.

The only one he even hanged out with regularly anymore was Aragorn, who he sometimes read books with in the library.

Suddenly, Chasers were being called forward. Legolas hopped onto his broomstick and zoomed into the air, joining the circle of brooms in the middle of the field and listening carefully to the instructions.

They were supposed to simply… fly around the field? Easy enough.

Except it wasn't.

Being far smaller than the others, Legolas was jostled into the back of the line. It became clear to him that the simple lap was not simply that, but a race.

Legolas could do races.

He bit his lip and swerved into the crowd, ducking and weaving through the people until he was far closer to the front, where a close knit pack of older members were flying in formation. These were the people Legolas had to watch out for, the people who had experience.

Legolas bit his lip.

Than, with a small amount of effort, he zoomed his broom straight up and turned it so he hung upside down in a long drawn out spin, as to prevent the others from knocking the broom around and send him flailing back. Than, keeping a tight grip with his legs, Legolas zoomed past the crowd and skittered back down in front of them, whirling himself around at the last possible moment and speeding off.

In the end, he didn't finish first; there were some people who were just incredibly skilled at flying and had had enough of a head start that Legolas couldn't catch up, but he most definitely was not last either, which he considered an accomplishment.

There were some passing and catching skills, which Legolas did okay at, but then came the actual shooting.

Legolas was very, _very_ good at it.

The Keeper was obviously experienced, but Legolas kept getting past his guard and the Quaffle into the goal. Again and again, until at last they pulled him off the field, every single member of the team and the spectators' faces masked with surprise.

Who knew that the tiny slight blonde could shoot?

And in the end, when push came to shove, Legolas got a spot on the team.

 _"You sure you don't want to be Seeker? I could give it to you, if you want the position..."_

 _"Really, Haldir, I'm fine with Chaser."_

 _"You sure?"_

 _"I'm sure."_

 _"Okay...If that's what you want..."_

Over the next few days, Legolas received an odd mixture of excited gradulations and vengeful sneers. He made sure to offer a smile to his well wishers, and a questioning glance to those who only gave scowls; what was their problem?

All in all, getting a position on the Quidditch team seemed like a good idea. It would be something to do, at the very least.

But then the first day of practice came, and he was standing in the center of the field as Haldir argued with the Gryffindor Captain over who would be taking the field first.

It was then he felt the piercing weight of a stare on his neck and turned around, searching for the source of his discomfort, only to freeze and feel his face shut off upon the sight of one Gimli Durinson, dressed in Gryffindor Quidditch robes, glaring daggers at him.

Legolas looked away, eyes cold.

Gimli… Gimli was a mystery.

Normally, Legolas could figure people out. It was like, putting a puzzle together. You find the right piece and _click;_ it all comes together.

With Gimli? Not so much…

Perhaps the reason that the ginger's words had hurt him so much was that he knew that, at least partly, they were true. His father had killed people, he was doing it for a bigger cause, to save hundreds of others, but it had happened.

(Legolas knows; they go and visit their graves every year.)

His father was murderer. And even though he was just doing his job, even though Thranduil was trying to save others, not harm them, Legolas sometimes felt hints of doubt, whispering curls of _What if_ 's that made Legolas far more guilty than anything else.

He had meant what he had said. His father was a good man. It was true. _It was_.

As for Legolas himself… he had changed his last name. That was true, too. But mainly he did to honor his mother… and to avoid the stairs that haunted him when he was younger.

Cowardly? Perhaps, but at the time he wasn't sure what else to do. He was small and young and very, very scared, and so he became Legolas Greenleaf, and that was that.

And his mother... His mother was a beautiful, beautiful woman. More of a dream to him now than anything else, a forgotten half-there memory which sometimes came to him in the middle of the night, when he was feeling particularly lonely.

And Gimli... Gimli had blindsighted her. As if he alone had experience loss. As if Legolas and his father were not so broken after his mother's death that they could hardly function. As if she didn't matter.

(No matter that Gimli probably didn't even know about her. No matter.)

And perhaps the reason he hated Gimli's words so much was because there was a hint of truth in them. Because they were Legolas' own fears, spoken out loud.

And Legolas had spent far too long suppressing them all ready, he didn't need anyone digging them back up.

And so he ignored the redhead glaring daggers at him from across the field, pretending that his emotions were only those of anger and not mixed with hurt. Pretending that he didn't feel guilty for what he had said in turn.

And the two boys stood on opposite sides of the wall, held apart by a feud that transcended both of them by many years… stones paved by mistrust and held together by the glue of misunderstandings.

The wall was built, and any hopes of breaching it were already being blown away by the wind.

 **...**

 **Soooooo... How'd you like? *raises eyebrows repetitively***

 **Big GINORMOUS SPARKLY THANK YOUUUUUU TO FangirlExtreme6035 ANDDDDD Andy the willow tree! Your guy's support is super appreciated! :) :) :) :) :3**

 **You guys are amazing, you know that? Like, all of you. Every single person who reads this IS AMAZING! *hugs***

 **Can you tell I'm in a good mood? Hehe ;)**

 **Till next time! Hope you enjoooooyed!**

 **-Mashpotatoe Queen**


	17. Charms and Perfumes

***Runs in panting* Sorry this is late!**

 **This story id dedicated to Andy the willow tree, who is FANTABULOUS!**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **...**

The Western tower was one of the tallest ones in Hogwarts, and with every step Sam regretted more and more that extra roll he had eaten at breakfast.

The great winding staircase was the early morning workout of every second year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and despite the constant pattern Sam had yet to get used to it. He was stout my nature, and was made for his gardens and perhaps the occasional stroll, not hiking up hundreds of stairs.

Well, one hundred and forty-seven stairs, according to Frodo, who had counted the steps upon getting annoyed of Pippin and Merry's constant complaints that the school was forcing them up _millions_ of stairs. Still… be it a hundred forty-seven or more, it was a lot of work, and Sam was always winded by the time he got to the Charms classroom.

Winded… and very often late.

That sunny Monday morning however, their little group made it with seconds to spare, sliding into their seats just as Professor Saruman began reading from the attendance list. The young Hufflepuffs shared relieved grins, relaxing back into their chairs and taking out their quills in order to take notes.

(Well... Frodo would take diligent notes and ask as many questions as humanly possible, Merry and Pippin would halfheartedly doodle, and Sam would take notes as quietly and as unobtrusively as possible, though most of the time he would double check with Frodo after class to make sure he got the important points right.)

(He was good at Herbology. He was good at gardening…. He was not good at Charms.)

Professor Saruman… he wasn't… he wasn't the worst teacher. He was just… he was just very strict, and kind of terrifying, and all his classes involved a lot of notes and demonstrations instead of actual practice. The actual wand waving happened, just not at a degree that Sam would have liked; he needed to get all the practice he could get.

Sam didn't particularly hate his class… But he didn't necessarily like it either.

(Not that he would ever say it out loud. The man was _scary._ )

He sighed; the professor was droning on about something yet again, his monotonous voice _just_ this side of putting him to sleep. Frodo, besides him, had his hand raised high in the air and his brow was scrunched up in concentration, no doubt attempting to understand the difficult explanation.

Sam's eyes wondered on to just beyond Frodo's head, to where Merry and Pippin were having a discussion without a single word, communicating with mere twitches of eyebrows and slight head gestures. Based on the pair's constant calculating looks towards the professor's beard, it could be guessed that they were planning something that would not be the most pleasant for the wizard.

Sam hastily changed angles and looked the other way; the last time they had caught him looking during one of their little scheming sessions, he had somehow gotten wrapped up in the whole mess and had been in detention for a _week_. He was not planning on doing so again, _thank you very much._

His wondering eyes landed on the table across the way, where a Ravenclaw- _Legolas, was it?_ \- was blearily taking notes. The blond looked rather ill, in Sam's eyes, face pale with a high flush on his cheeks, the table supporting more of him than his actual body was. It was especially odd because usually the blonde was far more energetic, taking notes and asking questions with almost as much vigor as Frodo did.

Now he was oddly quiet and lethargic, and despite not knowing him too terribly well, Sam felt a spark of concern. In fact, he was about to risk breaking Professor Saruman's no talking rule and lean over to ask the lad if he was alright when the blonde's hand went into the air.

The professor, looking rather frustrated at the sudden interruption, nonetheless admitted a drawled, "Yes, Mr. Greenleaf?"

The blonde was sitting up a little straighter under the sudden inspection of the professor, not to mention the rest of the class, but he still looked overall unhealthy and flushed.

"Can- Can I go to the healing ward, please? I'm not feeling terribly well…"

The professor gazed down at the blonde, his face a look of inspection, as if deciding whether or not the flushed cheeks and pale pallor were simply an incredibly well done fake in order to get put of class.

And then Saruman turned away and, to Sam's shock, said that the Ravenclaw could go at the end of class.

* * *

"Can- Can I go to the healing ward, please? I'm not feeling terribly well…"

It was true, Legolas was most definitely _not_ feeling very well at all. In fact, he felt rather horrid in general, clammy and achy and filled to the brim with cold ice.

It was really all rather odd, for he had felt perfectly fine this morning. In fact, he had had a brilliant night's sleep after Quidditch Practice the day before. All through breakfast he had felt just as usual, steadfastly ignoring Gimli's glare- his most recent tactic in dealing with the bothersome ginger- as he sat at the Gryffindor table and chatted with Aragorn, Faramir, and Boromir. He had been fine up the stairs as well, racing up them two at a time and landing in his seat with minutes to spare.

No, he had only started to feel really horrible once he was in the classroom, the illness creeping up on him unexpectedly and without warning, blanketing him with chills and feverish heat little by little until his vision began to waver and his body grew sluggish and tired. Bit by bit, Professor Saruman's lecture slipped out of focus and instead he could only hear the pounding of his own head.

It felt a bit like that time in the woods, with the creatures… but no, that was a thousand times worse, and it would make no sense; no one else seemed to be feeling the same way that Legolas did.

There were no monsters, he just had a fever or something. He was fine.

(At least, that was what he told himself.)

He tried to remain quiet, he really did. Closed his eyes for a few seconds and counted to ten, breathing in and out and ignoring the way his vision sparked once he opened them again. Took the notes even though the words were blurry at best, and kept his head down.

But the heat and the dull ache and the clenching and unclenching of his stomach got to him eventually, and he had raised his hand, asked for permission to go to the healing ward.

He felt his own shock play on his face when the professor refuted him, turning back to the blackboard without a second glance.

He thought he might be sick.

Heaving a deep breath through his nose, Legolas picked up his quill once more. His hand was shaking slightly, but he took the notes none the less. Absentmindedly, he swiped his brow and closed his eyes once more, shaking his head as if he could dispel the ringing headache with the mere motion.

(It did not. In fact, it made it worse.)

The room felt oddly cold, and Legolas shivered, closed his eyes again.

 _Why was he feeling so awful?_

Suddenly, there was whirl of motion and chatter, and Legolas watched as the students around him started to bring out their wands, utterly confused.

The Hufflepuff from across the way- he believed his name was Sam- gave him an nudge.

"We're reviewin' our levitation spells, on the pots of perfume. He said it would mean we would have ta' focus more on balance or somethin'..."

Legolas tried for a smile, thanking his fellow second year as wholeheartedly as he could, even though even the _idea_ of summoning the willpower to cast magic made his stomach roll in the most unpleasant ways.

Still, he appreciated the help.

Professor Saruman, someone that Legolas had tolerated well enough before and was now feeling highly disgruntled at, took his position at the front of the room- well out of the way of the disaster zone- and nodded, signalling the start of the practice.

Taking _yet another_ deep breath, Legolas flicked his wrist and murmured the spell, watching as the silver ornate container of perfume he had been focusing on slowly levitated into the air. Despite the exhaustion and pounding headache, he couldn't help but smile as he watched the object float slowly across the room.

With a soft thump, the container landed on the desk in front of him, and Legolas hardly had a chance to congratulate himself when disaster struck.

A student messed up, their container tipped, and the perfume splashed to the floor.

But this wasn't any ordinary perfume, as it then became clear, and the liquid exploded into multi colored clouds of smoke upon contact with the floor. With the residual gas came a strong floral smell, which quickly encased the entire room.

The odor, perhaps pleasant in lesser amounts, was strong beyond belief and was utterly overpowering, attacking his nose and filtering into his already ill-wracked systems.

Before Legolas even knew what he was doing, he was on the ground and retching.

The class was rather silent after he managed to completely empty his stomach onto the hard stone of the Charm's classroom floor, and perhaps he would have been embarrassed if he had not been so busy feeling miserable.

And the smell- _gods, the smell_ \- it was still heavy and thick around him, and he was never going to be able to smell perfume without wanting to throw up ever again.

He probably would have stayed on the ground for the rest of the period, staring at his own vomit, if someone did not begin to gently tug him up into a standing position. Legolas half recognized that it was Sam, worriedly asking if he was alright, and he gave a brief nod before wavering slightly and tipping to the left, only to steady himself with a white knuckled grip on the nearest desk at the last possible moment.

The professor finally made his way to the… situation, vanishing the sick with a wave of his wand before turning to Legolas, presumably to say something.

If he was in his right mind, he probably would have let the elder wizard say his part without interruption, but as it was…

"I told you I wasn't feeling very well."

Saruman gave him a rather unimpressed look, but Legolas only returned it with a tired one of his own. With every passing second his body ached just a bit more, and he honestly felt as if he would throw up again if he had to stay in the heavily odored classroom a minute longer.

"I can see that, Mr. Greenleaf. Why don't you head down to Professor Elrond right away, so that we can avoid another... incident."

It was a jab at him, but he was honestly so poorly he didn't even care. The world was wavering in and out of focus once more, and he wanted to get _out_.

"Okay."

He turned to the door, the rest of the class being ushered back to work by the professor, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Are ya goin' to be okay headin' down the stairs by yourself?"

It was Sam again, and Legolas honestly felt sort of touched by the Hufflepuff's compassion. They hardly knew each other, and yet the other was willing to offer his help.

It was a nice feeling.

But… he refused the offer. He didn't want to get the other in trouble, nor did he wish for Sam to feel as of he had unnecessary obligations. He didn't like the thought of all those stairs… but he would be fine.

(He hoped.)

And so Legolas made his stumbling way down the stairs alone, exhausted beyond belief and taking many, many breaks. Everything ached and felt oddly chilled, but at least he was no longer surrounded by that _smell_.

When he finally made it to Professor Elrond, the wizened wizard took one look at him and whisked him off to the healing ward, patiently asking him about what had happened and his symptoms and all the questions that Legolas didn't care about but answered none the less, suddenly so tired that he felt as if he could sleep for a thousand years.

He would not remember how he mentioned Saruman denying his access to leave for the healing wards when he had originally asked, nor the flicker of a frown that instantly played on the elder's face. He would have no recollection at the sudden influx of potions that he was forced to drink, along with a few crackers; something that Legolas was heartily against but Elrond had insisted in. He would not even remember when his head hit the pillow. Instead, his brain would be filled with only half there muddled sights and sounds.

He would also not remember the dreams he had, of glowing black spheres of glass and murmuring rasping voices. Plans of most evil means whispered into the dark, and a burning red fire beginning to rage across his mind.

Of these things… He would have no memory at all.

 **...**

 **Eh? Eh? What'd you think? :)**

 **Huge THANK YOU to Nolitmeremessorem, Meep, DrAveBat007 MasterofChaos13, FangirlExtreme6035, and Andy the willow tree, my lovely followers/favoriters/reviewers! You guys are the best! *hugs* You all encourage me and inspire me in so many ways, and I'm so glad that you guys enjoyed!**

 _ **To Meep**_ : Hey there! I'm so glad that you have enjoyed it so far! :) As for the tri-wizard tournament... there might be somthing like it but I'm not sure yet; it depends on if I can get the occasion situated to match my story's needs. I guess you'll just have to wait and see! :D Thank you so much for your lovely review!

 **So that's all for this chapter folks! Thanks for reading and I'll see you next time!**

 **-Mashpotatoe Queen**


	18. Saftey?

**Oh my gosh, it has been FOREVER. I am so sorry.**

 **Maybe this will make up for inexcusable absence?**

 **As always, this fic is in honor of Andy the willow tree! :D :D :D**

 **...**

Legolas was bored.

Incredibly, _terribly_ bored.

He had read all three of the incredibly dull books that his father had given him for the semester, claiming them to be "essential pieces of a solid education," as well as two other books that Professor Elrond had loaned him when he had begged on his fourth day for _anything_ to do.

He had created fifteen different origami creations out of parchment paper- something his _naneth_ had taught him when he was very, very young- but had been unable to continue upon Elrond's realization that the parchment the blonde was using for his creations were, in fact, graded essay papers.

He had formed a pillow fort on his bed, only to be admonished half an hour later when Elrond had walked in _just_ as he was finishing the roof of his tent, startling him. He had been on his very tippy toes on the top of the bed, flinging his white sheet on top of the columns of pillows when the professor had walked in, promptly let out a startled squawk-sounding noise of indignation- apparently it wasn't proper courtesy to take literally _every single pillow of the entire healing ward! Every one!? Really, Legolas, what am I to do with you?-_ startling him and sending him falling backwards, leaving him hitting his head rather smartly on the cold tile and seeing stars for several moments.

(Since then, he had not been allowed to be alone and awake in the healing ward unattended and a nurse had been present. According to Elrond, he wasn't supposed to even be up, much less "constructing complicated masterpieces of architecture out of pillows, or leaving the bed to retrieve said pillows.")

(It _was_ a masterpiece, one of Legolas' best, if he did say so himself, stretching across three different hospital beds with a front archway and tall enough to stand up in. It was a shame that the whole thing toppled down with him.)

But now he was bored.

 _So, so, so bored._

So bored that he had, in fact, even managed to finish all his missing work for the last couple of days….

….. As well as all the assignments due for the next three weeks for four out of his nine classes.

 _So incredibly, horribly, terribly bored._

It began when he had first shown up at the ward, so ill he thought he would actually just die on the spot. The next day had been not much better, especially when Elrond had insisted on trying to find the source of his sudden malady, claiming that his potion should have cured to youth near instantly. After over an hour of testing and Elrond's frowns and mutters and occasional scribbles on parchment- ones that Legolas had unfortunately not been able to find in his origami paper search- he had fallen straight back to sleep. The next day he had felt much better, and after one last check, he had been released just in time to head up to Charms class. Legolas had marched up the tower stairs with full intent on whole-heartedly apologizing to Professor Saruman for disrupting his class the other day- even though the professor _had been_ sort of a jerk- and for, well, throwing up all over his floors…

Except… as he walked up those many, many stairs- _Don't you dare overexert yourself, Greenleaf, you hear me? Take it slow_ \- his brain felt more and more foggy and the same clammy feeling from before began to attack him once more. Swallowing hard, Legolas had been forced to sit down and put his head between his legs, trying to simply _breathe_.

Fifteen minutes later, he had somehow managed to forced himself back down the stairs and into Elrond's office for the second time in as many days. He managed to let out a quiet, "Professor?" before promptly collapsing to the floor and retching.

Needless to say, he was brought back to the healing ward and once more was suffered through a vary thorough examination, except this time he was forced to stay within the ward even beyond the time in which he felt healed.

 _And he was so bored._

Signing, Legolas rolled on his stomach, staring longingly at the window on the other side of the healing ward. An owl swooped past, elegant and graceful but most importantly free, something that Legolas was most definitely not.

He turned away; no need to unnecessarily to torture himself.

It was just then that he heard the door handle open and the familiar clips of Elrond's boots on the floor. But beyond that, however, he also heard a _very_ familiar voice.

"Just don't over exert him; he's been rather ill-"

"Yes, I know, Ada. I'll be gentle. I promise."

"You're lucky I'm letting you see him at all, Aragorn, you know that I don't like letting visitors in with sick patient, especially when it might cause a school wide epidemic-"

The door clicked open, revealing the tall figure of Professor Elrond and the shorter figure of Aragorn right besides him. Whatever the elder wizard was going to say was quickly cut off when Legolas dramatically rolled over to face them, widened his eyes, and threw out a grasping hand towards the pair.

"Aragorn! Oh, thank the gods you're here, I think I'm dying-"

"WHAT!?"

"It's so- so boring here, Aragorn, you have no idea. It's sucking out my very soul…"

Instantly reassured from his near panic attack, Aragorn let out a huff of a breath and gave a fond eye roll; he should have expected his highly active friend to go a bit stir crazy after a few days of being trapped in the healing ward.

Speaking of dramatic friends, Legolas was acting out an overly zealous death scene in front of him. Besides him, Elrond watched the blonde with a single skeptic eyebrow raised.

"I just- I don't know how much more I can take! The outside world, it calls to me, and- Aragorn, please, you must convince your father to release me from this foul torture!"

The Gryffindor felt one of his own eyebrows raise to match that of his father's, but Legolas was looking at him expectantly, so he hesitantly reached out to give the blonde a pat on the head.

"There, there?"

Legolas scowled up at him, reaching up to fix his mussed hair before looking away with a stiff upper lip and an obviously faked haughty tone.

"Fine. Be that way, then. See that I care."

Aragorn rolled his eyes once more, turning slightly to look up at his adoptive father.

"I thought you said he was sick?"

"He was, but I'm sure he'll be happy to hear that he'll be free to go in the morning."

Legolas turned back to them in an instant, eyes big and brilliantly blue with excitement.

"Really!?"

Elrond smiled, looking slightly exasperated, but only slightly, and nodded.

"Yesssssss! Aragorn, you have no idea how terrible it was, being stuck here with nothing to do! It really was torture of the worse kind; I considered jumping out of the window a couple of times…" Legolas obviously saw the blanched expression of Elrond's face at even the thought of his young charge jumping out of the window and hastily backtracked. "Not that I was actually going to do it! Probably. Huh, yeaaaaah. I _probably_ wasn't going to do it."

Aragorn resisted the sudden urge to facepalm.

Elrond was left once more staring at the blonde. There was no expression on his face beyond slight incredulousness, but then with a sigh the elder wizard turned and marched right out the door, muttering about being "too old for this" and "when was the retirement age, again?"

Aragorn felt sort of bad for him, but….

He caught Legolas' eye, and both fell into laughter.

Several minutes, many highly over exaggerated reenactments, and some highly out of breath laughter later, their high finally came to a tittering stop. Aragorn nudged shoulders with Legolas- who had long since sat up- and gave a smile.

"Seriously though, we missed you these last couple of days. Wasn't the same without your highly annoying blonde head around."

Legolas snorted and Aragorn marveled at the fact that he even had the courage to say such a thing, that simple teasing came out of his mouth as simple as breathing.

But then his eye caught the sight of the clock hanging above the door and he blanched.

"Aw, shoot, I'm late. I like, really, _really_ late. I am so dead. Professor Baggins is going to kill me. Like, feed me to one of his carnivorous plants kill me."

Legolas, while sad to see his friend go, couldn't help but laugh at the other boy's panicked expression.

"Oh, don't worry; you're just fifteen minutes late… and counting. Besides, Bilbo doesn't feed people to carnivorous plants; you have my word."

"You think so?"

"Definitely; he's far more subtle. He'll seek revenge by putting itching powder in your tea or forcing you to do _all_ the demonstrations for the fifteen days, one demonstration per a minute you were late. He'll be _sneaky_."

Aragorn groaned, pausing in his flurry of activity to gather his things to bury his head in his hands.

…. At least, until Legolas sing-songed, "Seventeen minutes and counting!" Then he was out like a bullet, the sound of his (traitor) friend's laughter following him out the door.

He showed up eighteen minutes late to Bilbo's sarcastic eyebrow raise and a prompted suggestion (read: _command_ ) to help the elder wizard in popping the liquid filled bulbous sacs of the Bubotuber.

Aragorn sighed, rolled up his sleeves and pulled on his gloves, and got to work.

Legolas was _so_ going to pay for this.

* * *

It was in the middle of the night, and Legolas could not sleep.

No matter how much he tried, the blasted dream world escaped him. He was far too excited for the next morning, where he would _finally_ be freed from his caged torment. He honestly didn't care if he was late for breakfast; the minute he was discharged he was going to run out of the building and into the great outdoors beyond. Maybe he would climb a tree…

Suddenly, hushed noises filled the corridors outside. There was the sound of whisking robes and hurried whispers, the clicks and clacks of solid shoes on the stone corridor.

Something had happened.

The healing ward door creaked open, and Legolas instantly settled himself into a deep, pretend slumber; adults talked more when they thought kids were not listening. The voices instantly quieted even further when the people entered the room and supposedly spotted him, but they did not quieten to a point he could not hear.

"What are we going to do, Gandalf? Send all the students home? Call the ministry? This is dark magic if I ever saw it, and you know that I've seen plenty of wickedness in my life."

That was Mr. Baggins, the Herbology teacher, Legolas was almost sure of it.

"Yes, Gandalf, what are we to do? This… this is beyond my level of healing. I don't even know where to start. He's definitely alive… but…."

And that was Elrond… But what was he talking about? Who was hurt?

"Surely we cannot close the school over one student and with no explanation. Gandalf, I advise-"

 _That_ was Saruman….. _But what had happened?_

"Calm down, all of you. We will see what has happened first, and how it might be fixed, before we make any decisions as to what is to be done. But first, I think I should notify the boy's parents…"

That was Gandalf, sounding graver and more tired than Legolas had ever heard him... _But why were they all in the healing award?_

There was more bustling and the sound of moving fabric, more grave whispers- these ones too soft to make out- and more hushing sounds sent in his direction. Once, he almost thought his cover was blown when one of the professors walked right up to him, placing a soft hand on his forehead before wandering off.

But then all the adults wondered out, the soft click of the door and the sudden silence signaling their exit.

Legolas stayed still for several more moments, breathing softly and eyes closed, just in case. But then he stood up, grabbing his wand along the way, and stumbled in the dark over to the now-occupied bed across from him.

Brushing aside the privacy curtain, Legolas held up his wand.

"Lumos."

When he saw the person, he almost wished he had actually been asleep.

It looked like….

It looked like Círdan, a boy a year or two above him in the Ravenclaw tower. They weren't particularly close, but close enough to give each other a nod or wave upon spotting one another in the hallway. There was even one time where they got in a rather fascinating conversation about his parents' jobs, who were muggles.

Except, the boy in front of him… he was burned. He had the same facial features, except everything was…. charred. Charred black and flaking like ash, black mouth gaping in a silent scream and unseeing eyes wide with terror. A single burnt hand was raised upwards, as if to block an oncoming blow, and his body was frozen, curled into himself in a charred and broken state. He smelled of something burning.

Legolas felt like throwing up. He stumbled backwards, hand on his mouth, and dashed back to his bed, throwing himself down onto the soft mattress and breathing heavily through his fingers.

The teachers said Círdan was alive… did that meant he felt it? That he felt like he was burning? That he was in pain, that he could see and hear without able to make his presence known? What had _happened_ to him? What had caused him to _burn_ like that?

…. And was anyone in Hogwarts safe?

 **...**

 **Bing Badda Bing Boom! We're starting to get to the plot! MUWAHAHAHAHA!1 I was going to do something different originally, but then the plot bunny struck and BOOM! this kinda happened?**

 **Ah well; I like how it turned out.**

 **Alrighty, to my lovely favoriters and followers: I'm the lonely life and moonblaze1509, THANK YOUUUUUUU! I really appreciate your support! :D**

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 **Alright, tata!**

 **Until next time!**

 **-Mashpotatoe Queen**


	19. Rumours Rising

**Hey!**

 **This fic is written in honour of Andy the willow tree, who is fabulousness in its truest form.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **...**

The disappearance of the fourth year Ravenclaw by the name of Círdan and just what happened to him was an absolute secret, and so, naturally, everyone knew exactly what happened to him.

Or at least, they thought they did. They heard the rumours, the whispers of fear, circling around the school, each turn the words being said growing more and more ridiculous.

But all anyone knew for _real_ was that something dark and horrible had hurt a student, and that no one knew where said something had went, that it could still be lurking in the school, waiting for its next victim

Unless, of course, one was the friend of Legolas Greenleaf, in which case one would know exactly what horrid event occurred, just not how or why.

"So you're saying he was burnt alive."

Legolas, face slightly pale from revolution, nodded towards Boromir, but then shook his head, a miserable expression crossing his features.

"He wasn't dead, at least, that was was the professors said, but he was…. charred, as if someone planned on burning him from the inside out. It was… It was horrid. Dark Magic, Professor Elrond had said. His skin was black and he smelled like someone had set him on fire and there was still bits of him that was red from heat and-"

Aragorn put a hand on his friend's arm, seeing how utterly revolted and shaken the blonde was.

"You don't need to go into details, Legolas, we get the idea…"

His eyes flickered across the rest of the group. They were seated in the library, the three Gryffindors and the one Ravenclaw, having snuck away from breakfast that morning when the blonde had come to them, urgent and breathless and eyes wide. Legolas was steadily avoiding making eye contact with Gimli while the ginger himself let loose a near constant stream of annoyed huffs, showing his irritation with the situation. Both Boromir and Aragorn were starting to feel the annoyance themselves, but they were trying to hold it together for the sake of getting anything done.

"Does anyone have any ideas?"

Four sets of young eyes looked at each other, hoping someone would create a brilliant explanation for the terrible act.

"You think it coulda been some sort of freak accident?"

Legolas shook his head at Aragorn, brows frowning.

"No… I don't think anyone could do _that_ on accident. Besides, Círdan was very obviously warding something off when he got… burnt. His arms were up," the blonde paused to show the stance, "like this, as if trying to stop something from hitting him."

They lapsed once more into silence.

At last, Gimli spoke up, the first time he did so without the intent of simply expressing irritation or annoyance. His brow was furrowed and angry, but there was something small in his eyes that suggested fear.

"You don't suppose it could have been those Ringwraith creatures? From the woods? Perhaps Círdan had the One Ring, and they had come to retrieve it, but he got in the way..."

They all collectively shuddered, and then as one the three Gryffindors turned to look at the sole Ravenclaw, who had closed his eyes in thought, as if trying to draw out a stubborn memory and analyze it. Finally, he opened the blue orbs, but he did not look at Gimli, instead choosing to turn his gaze to his fingers.

"I- I don't think so? I can't tell for sure… but those Ringwraiths… I don't think they did it. They were _dead_. Dry. Lifeless. Fire… fire is _alive_. It feeds and grows and _burns_. Those creatures… I don't think they could have done that. Burn, I mean. Besides, Headmaster Grey never said anything about them having the ability to burn people into blackened living corpses; if they did, I think he would have mentioned it, and that we would have seen more images of figures like Círdan in newspapers from the Great War."

Gimli frowned, hating to have his idea shot down, and opened his mouth to protest, but Aragorn cut in before he had the chance.

"Alright, that's some excellent reasoning, Legolas. For now, we'll go with the assumption that we're dealing with something new. But, as we can't be sure, we won't completely rule out the Wraiths. Okay?"

Nods of agreement- some more sullen than others- came from all parties, but no further discussion was held, as it was time to go to class.

Legolas groaned, thunking his head on the table before him.

"I am _not_ looking forward to Charms."

Aragorn shot him a concerned frown, allowing the others to go on ahead.

"What's wrong, are you feeling sick again?"

Legolas mutely shook his head, casting a one eyed look upwards from his position, half slumped against the wood.

"No… it's just that I keep falling ill the minute I get close to Professor Saruman's classroom."

Aragorn frowned.

"Really?"

Legolas sat up slightly, his own lips twitching downwards.

"Well, it happened the last two times I tried to go to class…."

The blonde looked up.

"Probably a coincidence, right?"

They traded doubtful glances, knowing the answer to the question was a very probable no, but not willing to state the answer out loud for the implications it could mean. That a teacher, someone they were supposed to trust, could be doing something _bad_.

With one last sigh, wandering thoughts trying to find their way through the unknown, they rushed off after the others, and onwards to class.

* * *

Sam tapped his foot nervously as he waited at the bottom of the stairs for the Western tower. He was waiting for the blonde- _Legolas. His name is Legolas. Get it together, Gamgee_ \- but he was beginning to feel anxious about the time, as he knew he took an extended amount to get up all the stairs. It didn't help that he knew that the blonde had the tendency to arrive early to class, somehow managing to get up all the stairs in a fraction of the time Sam did; he was afraid that the Ravenclaw had already arrived at the staircase and was at the classroom early, leaving Sam waiting for nothing.

The reason that he was standing there in the first place, waiting for someone he hardly knew, was because Aragorn King himself had come by and asked him of it.

Well, sort of.

The Gryffindor had cornered him the night before, asking quietly if he could ask a favor of him. Sam had instantly been on edge, remembering the other boy's heritage and the first day, way back when he had boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time and spotted the brunette in his own compartment, dark and brooding.

But then he had remembered how rude it was, to judge someone for actions they had never committed or on sheer looks alone, and had felt guilty. He remembered, also, how the other was good friends with Boromir, who was, in turn, good friends with Pippin and Merry. And all those were good people, and so, by extension, Aragorn had to be a good person as well.

All of this he tried to convince himself of as he had shakily agreed to providing the favor, as long as the other boy would explain it to him first.

He needn't have been so scared; the other boy turned out to be very polite and kind, quietly requesting that Sam keep an eye out for his friend, Legolas, _surely you know of him? He fell ill in the middle of charms the other day..._

Sam had happily agreed, responding that, yes, he did know of Legolas, and had actually felt quite worried about him when he had vanished to the healing wards and had not come out afterwards.

And Aragorn had smiled, looking incredibly relieved, and had told him that the blonde would be leaving his bed the very next morning, and that if Sam was able to just, be there for him if he fell ill again or needed help catching up, the Gryffindor would be massively grateful.

It was actually a rather pleasant conversation, and Sam thought that he wouldn't mind making friends with the other boy, if he ever got the chance.

At the very least, it would give him someone to try and stop Merry and Pippin's antics with; Frodo had long since given up, either responding with an exasperated laugh or a fond eye roll, and Aragorn seemed of a very responsible sort.

And so that was how he found himself anxiously waiting in front of the stairs, eyes searching for a flash of blonde. He was just about to give up and dash up the stairs as fast as he could when he finally caught sight of Legolas, who skidded to a halt in front of him in apparent shock.

The blonde was pale, but not overly so, and Sam was forced to remind himself that the other was already rather pale to begin with, and that several days without sun would probably only worsen the effect.

For several moments, they both froze, simply staring, before Sam awkwardly cleared his throat and straightened himself up slightly.

"I was, uh, waiting for ya…"

Legolas blinked, as if processing the information, before flashing him a smile.

"Oh- uh, thank you…. Now, c'mon, we're gonna be late!"

And then, with a flash of blonde hair, the Ravenclaw dashed past him and vanished around the bend.

It was Sam's turn to blink in shock, this time because of the other's amazing speed, but then, he too, took off in a mad dash against a tardy slip.

And so they climbed, Legolas pausing every few turns to stop and wait for his smaller companion, feet tapping up and down in an impatient motion. However, whenever Sam did catch up with him, he was all kind smiles and encouraging words of the sincerest sort, and then they were off again.

They made it to their seats just in time, sliding onto them right as Professor Saruman began to read out the names. Sam breathed heavily through his nose, his throat dry and his legs burning, barely managing to croak out a, "Here," when his name was called. Pippin and Merry gave him a series of congratulatory pats on the back, grinning mischievously, and Frodo offered him a sincere, if not a little confused, smile, eyes flickering between him and Legolas.

Sam waved his hand slightly; he would explain later.

And as Legolas flashed him his own warm smile from where he stood at the front, waiting to receive the homework and classwork he had been missing out on, Sam thought that he wouldn't mind becoming friends with the blonde either, should the opportunity present itself, even though the other would probably be a horrible partner in stopping Merry and Pippin's mischievousness.

Sam watched as the Ravenclaw conversed with the Charms Professor, how the other flinched and paled slightly whenever the elder man touched him- be it on the shoulder or when handing over papers- and he frowned.

Something wasn't right.

But when Legolas sat back down and Sam shot him a concerned look, he simply smiled and shook his head slightly, leaning into whisper, "'M fine, just a little woozy. I think it was all the stairs…"

It was very obviously not the stairs- the blonde had breezed up the large steps without even breaking sweat- but he let it lie, nodding and turning his gaze to the board, beginning to copy down the boring notes waiting for him there.

When at last the class was over, Legolas walked down with him and the others, chatting idly with him and Frodo and seeming to find great amusement in whatever jokes that Pippin and Merry were telling him. Sam could only sigh; he knew the other would be helpless at stopping those two's antics.

But then the blonde was besides him, telling him that the mischievous duo had pasted notes on his back, and Sam could have almost hit himself, because they had patted him in congratulations, _right_ , but he didn't, instead choosing to be impressed as he tore the paper off from the back of his robe.

Perhaps there was hope for the other yet.

* * *

Pippin was bored.

He and Merry were playing _Who can enchant the cooler paper creature/thing_ , and he was _obviously_ winning, but at the same time, Professor Balin would be coming in soon to teach the History lesson, and all things fun- even though the game was losing it's funness already to begin with- would have to come to an end. The History Professor was old and kind, sort of like a chubby little grandfather, but at the same time he was quick as a whip and had a tongue as sharp as knives. He was strict, too, not in an unreasonable way, but in one where you simply didn't break the rules. He and Merry had yet to dare and break any of the guidelines set forth, too terrified of the outcome to even try.

As Merry took his designated period to think up an awesome creation- though not as awesome as his own, he was sure- Pippin let his eyes and ears wander. They eventually fell on a conversation happening towards the left of him, his attention focusing.

"- And now everyone's saying it's Isildur's Monster! What d'ya think?"

"I dunno, Bart, I think it's a bunch of makeup to scare the First Years and keep them outta the basement… However, if it's true, we both know who the culprit is, eh?"

The eyes of the boy and the girl turned to land on one of the Gryffindor boys, one with longish brown hair whose back was turned slightly towards them. He was chatting with two red heads, chuckling slightly at something one of them said, and at first Pippin wandered why they would assign blame on some random kid, but that was before he realized they were gesturing to Aragorn King.

His curiosity was peaked.

By the time Professor Balin strolled in, eyes twinkling behind his massive white beard, Pippin already had a plan.

Just as the man began his lecture, he purposely shot his hand into the air. The professor obviously saw him, but he chose instead to finish his brief summary of what they were going over that day before answering.

Impatient, Pippin shook his raised appendage back and forth, earning him some odd looks from his friends and some even odder ones by his other peers.

At last, the elder man gave in, his voice dry and slightly exasperated when he called on him.

"Yes, Took?"

He smiled wide, the one that promises of mischief and mayhem, the one that always seemed to make all adults surrounding him pale or hide their heads, depending on who it was.

"What's Isildur's Monster?"

Immediately, every student in the room perked up, their eyes swiveling towards the teacher and student in eager anticipation for the answer.

Professor Balin's gaze swerved over the many pupils before he sighed, taking off his glasses and polishing them before sliding them back onto his face.

"You're not going to concentrate at all until I explain it all to you, right?'

The words were tired and so _done_ , it was almost humourous.

And no, they weren't; that was a part of Pippin's plan.

With another sigh, the teacher sat down and rubbed at his his forehead, as if already lamenting all his decisions.

"Isildur's Monster is a legend here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you all know, Isildur betrayed the Order in order to achieve his own selfish desires, his greed for power and wealth and riches overwhelming his own morals. Supposedly, according to the legend, part of his rewards for working for the Dark Lord included Isildur's Monster, a _fictional_ creature that could wreck havoc and destruction and death upon whomever controlled it. Isildur used it to destroy hundreds of muggleborns and squibs, before supposedly locking it within the castle in a deep slumber during his time here. The only way to wake this creature, to take control of it, would be to take possession of an artifact, one that," the man hesitated, and then went silent.

Pippin, frowning, noticed the abrupt ending.

"One that- what, Professor?"

And the wizened wizard sighed, looking up at the ceiling and then turning his attention back to the spellbound class before him.

"One that Isildur supposedly left behind for his heir."

And slowly, one by one, the youthful wizards and witches came to the realization that Isildur's sole heir was sitting in that very room, and their gazes turned to one Aragorn King, who in turn stared at the professor, his face blanched white.

 **...**

 **Dun! Dun! DUUUUUN!**

 **Uh oh! You guys see where I'm going here? Eh? Eh?** **I think you dooo!**

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 **To Guest : **Awwwww! You are too sweet! I'm so glad that you are liking the story so much, but even more importantly I must insist that you guys truly are amazing! After all, the reviews are my encouragement and are what bring this story to life! Either way, it's good to hear that you find the plot entertaining; really brightens my day to know I'm doing my job right. :) And yes, have no fear! Gimli and Legolas shall become friends again soon enough! Even **I** am not cruel enough to leave them a part. Anywho, thank you for the lovely review!

 **To Joyday05:** Hey there! I'm so glad that you're enjoying the fic! And, believe it or not, I too live for Legolas's dramatics, which is probably why there are so many of them in this story... Hmm... Haha! Well I hope you like this chapter! And, my dear, I'm far too happy that you reviewed at all to worry about it being short! Thank youuuu!

 **Thank you so much for all my lovely readers, even if they choose not to review. :) *hugs***

 **Anyways, until next time!**

 **The Mashpotatoe Queen**


	20. It's Coming Together, It's Falling Apart

**Alright, I promised this last week and I'm one day late. Not TOO bad, right?**

 **This fic was written for the wonderful and fantabulous Andy the willow tree! :)**

 **Enjoy, my peeps, enjoy!**

 **...**

Aragorn felt the stares lingering on his back as he walked down the grounds and towards the greenhouse for Herbology. They were heavy and weighted, settling on his shoulders like physical anvils. _Suspicious_ stares, the kind that whispered of how everyone thought something was wrong with him, about how something was _evil_. They were the kinds of stares that dragged at his soul and made him sort of want the soggy earth below his feet to swallow him up whole.

These were the kinds of stares that Aragorn had received his first year. The ones that lingered on the back of his neck long after he had turned the corner and was out of sight. The ones that had kept him up at night, lamenting the fact that he was born and had to endure such looks at all.

Except, this time, they were somehow _worse_.

Before, people would whisper as he passed- and never did Aragorn ever believe he would miss the whispers- they would whisper and point and say something snide and cruel and mean that made Aragorn just want to curl into himself and _die_ , but at least there was communication. At least it wasn't-

At least it wasn't this.

Because now, instead of being whispers and stares, it was just _fear_.

People looked at him, and they were terrified.

Aragorn felt as if he was walking in a bubble, one that poured some sort of illusion over him, disguised his lanky twelve year old frame and made him instead the figure of a dreadful monster. People would physically back off when he walked through hallways and into classrooms, and more than once he had sat at a desk and spent the rest of the class in solitude, other students doubling up at other tables to avoid sitting by him and his friends otherwise occupied.

Indeed, the only ones who _didn't_ really treat him oddly were his close friends. Boromir, Gimli, Legolas, and even Faramir whenever he hanged out with his older brother. They were the only real points of physical and social connections he had had _in days,_ but _because_ they stood by him they were receiving backlash, prior acquaintances distancing themselves and making excuses as to not to hang out, leaving their small group in isolation. And it made his fingers shaky and antsy and his heart so heavy he thought it might break.

He hated this. He hated it so much. He shouldn't have even come to Hogwarts. He just made everything worse, every time, and maybe he should just stop being friends with the others because not only was his lineage ruining his _own_ life it was ruining _theirs as well and-_

And Aragorn was tired and shamefaced and desperate for that quiet normalcy he had once had, the one towards the end of his first year, where he was no longer news to anyone or anything, but simply himself, Aragorn, a kid and a student and a Gryffindor and someone you could give a wave to as you walked past.

Now he was something scary and something to be despised, something to avoid at all costs because he wasn't just some kid, he was Isildur's Heir, and the rise of Isildur's Monster was so very obviously all because of him.

Even some of the _teachers_ were weary of him.

The first time it had happened, he hadn't even realized what was going on at first. He walked back into a classroom to grab his Charms book, and the professor who had been setting up in the room had glanced up at him and done a double take, eyes growing wide and his body still as Aragorn quickly grabbed his things.

Upon seeing the man's wide eyed look, he had taken a step forward and asked if he was okay.

The teacher had flinched back, and Aragorn only had time to wonder _why_ for half of a moment, and then he realized that the cause of the dawning terror in the professor's eyes was because of himself and he had blanched, quickly excused himself, and dashed out of the room.

He had ended up at his father's room, Elrond quietly putting away some supplies from some other class, and he had crashed into the older man's arms without a word, shaking and shaking _and shaking_ and pretending tears weren't escaping behind his closed eyelids because _he didn't want this_. He didn't _want_ to be a monster-

Elrond hadn't said anything, hadn't even flinched- and if he had Aragorn probably would have shattered, because _no, not him too, please not him_ \- had just wrapped his hands around him and held him without even a questioning hum.

Elrond was good like that.

And so Aragorn made his trodden way down to Herbology Class and pretended he didn't feel the weight of the stares on his back, wondering if today would be the day in which he finally magically vanished from the face of the earth.

When he arrived at the greenhouse, there was a stifled silence as always, from Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike. Boromir offered him half of a wave and a crooked, tired smile and Gimli nodded at him, twirling a quill through his stubby fingers.

But that was it. That was all. Everyone else was simply pointedly looking away.

Aragorn himself looked around, expecting the kind face of Professor Bilbo, raising a brow and suggesting he help out with yet another orientation- they were on day sixteen of the small but unpleasant tasks that the Herbology Teacher had been putting him through with a small teasing smile and a twinkle in his eye, Legolas being absurdly accurate in his guess of the form of punishment- but the older man was nowhere to be found.*

Instead, he was suddenly and alarmingly face to face with Professor Radagast, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, the man's bushy eyebrows heavy and narrowed as the elder squinted at him.

Aragorn blinked, his eyes flicking up to the _literal bird's nest_ the man was sporting in his hair and then back to the eyebrows, before finally meeting the professor's too wide, almost crazed looking brown eyes.

Two seconds passed. Three

"...Hello?"

It was Radagast's turn to blink, and he did so with vigour, before nodding and smiling and turning to the cluttered table at the front of the greenhouse, marking something on one of the numerous scrolls.

"Ah, yes, all's in order then. Go be joinen' your classmates, then."

Aragorn, slightly alarmed and highly confused, went and did just that, plopping his things down in the saved seat between Gimli and Boromir, pretending not to notice the looks and muffled shuffling away from his person.

He glanced at the taller redhead, brow furrowed.

"Why's Radagast here? Where Professor Bilbo?"

Boromir shrugged, absentmindedly tracing the shapes formed by the wood on the table beneath him as he glanced up at the brunette, his own gaze just as confused.

"I dunno. Radagast said that the prof was out for the week and that he'd be taking over the classes for the time being."

Aragorn scratched at his elbow, eyes narrowing.

"Again?"

The kindly Herbology Professor had already vanished from the school's grand halls twice that year. The first time had only been for three days, and he had returned as normal as ever, if not a little tired, and Aragorn had dismissed it as some illness or another. The second time, the man had been gone for almost two weeks, and had returned with a limp and a heavily bruised left eye, neatly avoiding any concerned questions with such practiced casualty that you'd be around the corner and halfway to your next class before realizing the older man had never actually answered your queries.

And now he was gone for a third time, for at least a week.

Gimli nodded, his own brown orbs sharp.

"Odd, huh?"

And Aragorn quietly agreed, glancing up and listening with polite interest as the teacher rambled on about the many different magical plants that stored creatures and how they should be treated. The professor was most definitely of the curious sort, half as likely to get distracted by some animal or another as he was to actually teach the class, but he was kind and he provided good information when he was focused enough to give it, and he never flinched away from Aragorn when they talked, which was one thing that the second year was supremely grateful for.

And then suddenly they were partnering up to try and recreate the naturally forming bird's nest that Yombrane Trees formed during the spring, so as to better be able spot them in the future and avoid them so that said trees didn't spurt poisonous gas in their faces, and that would have been fine, that would have been _perfectly fine_ , he could have just paired up with Gimli or Boromir, except that they had to partner up with someone from the opposite house.**

Aragorn stayed quiet, eyes flicking anxiously across the Hufflepuff faces as all of them studiously turned away from him, and resisted the urge to curl into himself.

Maybe, possibly, Radagast wouldn't notice? Maybe he could just quietly stand right where he was and blend into the scenery behind him, and he wouldn't have to do anything or be anything or deal with pointedly turned away gazes or-

"Aragorn- partner up with Henrick, would ya?"

No such luck.

Henrick's eyes had doubled in size, and he was furtively shaking his head, jaw clenched.

"No. No way am I working with _him_."

Radagast frowned, crazy brown orbs flicking back and forth. The rest of the class was staring as well, and Aragorn could _feel_ himself shrinking inwards.

"Wha- Why not?"

And really, really _this_ was getting out of hand and Aragorn was fine. He was fine, really.

"Ah- It's fine, Professor, I can- I can work alone. Seriously, it's okay. I'll just, I'll just-"

"I can work with him."

Aragorn blinked, turned his head slightly as his raised placating hands lowered to his sides.

He wasn't expecting the short Hufflepuff boy who had emerged from the ringing crowd of students, with thick black curly hair and a small ovalish face. His expression was set, but his blue eyes were kind and nonjudgmental, if not a little defiant and curious and very much tired, and Aragorn wasn't sure what had brought the other to stand up for him, but he had hardly ever been so glad.

But- still. He was _Aragorn King_ , Heir to _Isildur_ , and he brought trouble wherever he went, and now this kid was willingly socializing with him and-

"You sure?"

The words blurted out of his mouth without any consent from his mind, and he almost wanted to somehow take them back and die out of embarrassment, but the black haired boy just shot him a small smile and a nod, gesturing for him to grab his stuff and join him.

An uneasy silence settled over the greenhouse as he did so, and Aragorn hardly had the time to trade confused and slightly worried looks with Gimli and Boromir before he was scrambling awkwardly around the tables, trying to keep his mind off of the way the other students flinched away from him as he passed.

Once he was settled by the shorter's side, the strained silence shifted slightly back into the world of noise, if not a stilted, convoluted one filled with constant brief pauses and glances in Aragorn's direction.

"Hullo."

He blinked, looked up from here he had been memorizing the individual specks of dust on the floor. Next to him was Sam, another second year with the kindly disposition and small shy smile that had initially brought Aragorn over to him the first few days after Legolas' recovery.

And he didn't look too terribly frightened of him, either, even now that most people were, and so Aragorn smiled back.

"Hi."

The other two of the Hufflepuff group- _Merry and Pippin, was it?_ \- were playing a round of Rock Paper Scissors Shoot, Boromir and Gimli- having meandered around to their section of the tables- standing besides them and watching the game. Evidently, it was to decide who would be partnered with who.

And if _they_ were Merry and Pippin and Sam was, well, _Sam_ , then the dark haired boy who stood besides him must have been Frodo.

Frodo _Baggins_. Related to Bilbo _Baggins_.

And Aragorn knew it was none of his business, that he should just be grateful that the other was willing to stand his presence at all, but he could just _feel_ the curiosity burning under his skin and he wanted to figure out the mystery and maybe if he just asked nicely he's understand a little more and solve it all out and-

...And, in retrospect, if Aragorn was getting these notions he was probably spending _far_ too much time with Legolas.

So he kept his mouth shut and quietly set up his supplies as he waved Sam off- he was partnering up with someone across the room as Pippin settled with Gimli and Merry with Boromir- and waited for Frodo to return with the promised fake branches so that they could begin crafting the nest.

He would be polite. It was the least he could do to show his gratitude.

His friends, however, had no such qualms.

"Sooo, Frodo…. Where's Professor Bilbo gone?"

Aragorn could have slapped himself- because of course Gimli would ask, of course he would- but instead he just tilted his head slightly towards the smaller boy, curious for his answer.

Frodo bit his lip in response, glancing at Merry and Pippin and then nodding as if taking part of some silent bout of communication. Aragorn wondered if that was what he looked like when he and Legolas traded looks over the others' heads.

"We're pretty sure he's looking into the whole 'Islidur's Monster' thing…."

Boromir's head snapped up.

"What- _Baggins_?"

At that Frodo grinned slightly, his blue eyes positively shining with amusement, and Aragorn could hear Pippin snort as he knelt down to twist another branch into place.

"Haven't you ever heard about not judging a book by it's cover? Bilbo has had all _sorts_ of adventures, some more daring than you'd think."

Then the raven haired Hufflepuff's eyes curiousl flicked briefly to Gimli and then back to Aragorn's, small smile in place. He didn't say anything more on the matter, despite how his fellow Gryffindors sputtered and nudged him, and whenever Pippin and Merry looked like they were going to spill, he would raise his eyebrows at them and they would trail off with some weak excuse.

So the Baggins family had secrets. Aragorn could respect that. After all, if he could have kept his heritage quiet, he would have.

So he didn't pester, and the rest of the lesson passed on in relative comfort and ease. Aragorn hadn't realized how _isolated_ he had felt until he got a chance to talk with someone outside of his immediate friends and family, and the whole thing was a breath of fresh air.

He left the greenhouse with a small smile playing on his lips and feeling lighter than he had in days. It was as if he had been stuck in a windowless room for hours and hours on end, and only now was he stepping out into the light.

It was a good feeling.

Eventually, he split off from his fellow Gryffindors and his new Hufflepuff… _friends?_ _Were they friends?_ He hoped they were, but he didn't necessarily want to assume. Especially with his… himness.

He had almost wanted to stay and hang out with them, but no, he had to go to the library and check out a book for his research paper in Transfigurations, because he had been neglecting it and it wouldn't do well to get a bad grade in his adoptive father's class….

Well, it was bad idea to get a bad grade with any teacher in general, but especially so when said teacher was your dad.

And so he excused himself and meandered his way through the twisting halls, following the convoluted route that Legolas had taught him to get to and through across the castle, the one that avoided most of the crowded corridors and allowed him some breathing room in between classes.

There was still _people_ , of course, it was impossible to walk the spanse of Hogwarts and completely avoid all the students in the school for every hour of every day, but there was less then there could have been, and their stares didn't weigh as heavy as they had, especially after the surprisingly enjoyable Herbology Class.

And so, good mood lifting him, when he heard a loud thump and the sound of someone moaning in exasperation, he didn't think twice about diverging from his intended path and checking to make sure everything was alright.

It was one of the twisting staircases, and a first year- Slytherin, judging by her robes- was picking herself off of them after stumbling on the fake step, quickly trying to gather her spilled goods as she did so.

And again Aragorn was in a good mood, and so he didn't even think about kneeling down besides her and stacking scrolls and quills, holding them out for the younger girl to take as she fumbled with all her things and blushed and muttered at him, dark brown bangs hanging in her eyes.

"Sorry- uh, sorry. Gah, this is a mess, here, uh, thank you- It's that bloody step; I forget it every time and-"

She looked up and caught sight of him, immediately freezing, her juggling of scrolls and quills and pots of ink stilling as if by magic.

Her face had gone pale.

"Oh, _Merlin's Beard_ ," she said, and her eyes were too wide and Aragorn felt his heart sinking to his shoes, "you're- you're-"

And then she was gone, dashing away from him with her arms full of precariously placed things, terrified.

And Aragorn stared after her, at that girl who was scared enough about his mere presence that she had literally _ran away from him_ , and he felt his eyes become wet because it wasn't fair and because he wasn't just Isildur's heir and because he didn't want this, _he didn't want this_ , why was everyone so scared of him? Why did he think anything could _ever, ever be better? Why?_ _Why did it always have to be him? Why was he always the monster? He didn't want this, he didn't want this, he- He-_

And then he was running, too. Running away.

He went opposite direction from the girl, because there wasn't any need to terrify her.

Well, terrify her _more_.

* * *

Legolas was the one who found him almost an hour later.

He was crammed in the corner of an old empty classroom that looked like it hadn't been used in at least forty years, covered in a heavy layer of dust and with a certain thickness in the air of places that were once lived in but had long since been forgotten.

Aragorn's eyes were itchy, and surely red and raw from crying. But they were also dry, his heaving tears having long since escaped him.

Now he just felt dull. Dead inside.

So he just stared ahead as the blonde wondered quietly into the room, seemingly sniffing him out by some hidden power- or perhaps that was just the footprints he had left in the dust in his mad dash for somewhere isolated and alone- and plopping down besides him far too elegantly to be natural.

Aragorn had dried tear tracks on his face, and he was sure they were visible, even in the dull light of the dark room.

He couldn't bring himself to even really care. Not even enough to reach up and wipe at his cheeks.

He expected Legolas to say- something. Anything. Legolas _liked_ to talk with Aragorn. Liked laughing and joking around with horrible puns and being an utter _dork_ because behind his _I'm Cool and Superior_ mask, there was the biggest dork to have ever dorked, and yet there he was, sitting quietly.

Aragorn wondered, briefly, if this was new for Legolas. Comforting people. The Ravenclaw had described some of his younger years to him, about Beauxbatons and his house, and it all sounded rather… lonely, to Aragorn. Isolated.

(Like Aragorn was now.)

Even in Rivendell, where there were miles and miles to their nearest neighbor, Aragorn had had his brothers and Elrond, and the many, many visitors that had passed on through, as unpleasant as they may have been.

But Legolas' childhood stories, the few rare snippets of past he was allowed to see, always seemed to make the large mansion the blonde grew up in more of a tomb than a home. Somewhere quiet and in mourning, never quite escaping the sense of death that laid thick on its doors.

So did Legolas even know how to comfort? Or was he feeling just as awkward as Aragorn was feeling, sitting silently in some dusty corner in some old abandoned classroom.

He didn't really know, but he found he didn't mind. It was almost… nice. Hiding away in the dark where the only thing that could see him was Legolas's bright ice blue eyes and the creaky old desks, sitting in quiet companionship.

Which was why Aragorn was so startled when Legolas suddenly, violently sneezed, three times in a row in rapid succession.

And then-

"Sorry- dust messes with my nose."

And despite it all, he found himself letting loose a choked laugh.

"Sorry- I'll try and find a better place next time."

His voice was dry and cracked, but Legolas didn't seem to mind, concking his head on the wall behind him and sniffing haughtily.

"You better, or else I'll have you turned it."

Aragorn snorted, and even _that_ sounded pathetic, but he could see the blonde's mouth twitch upwards in a smile, and so he let it go. Reached up and scrubbed at his eyes.

"And to who, exactly, will you turn me in?"

Legolas frowned, opened his mouth before shutting it again.

"I… actually don't know. But it'll happen, so you best watch out."

Aragorn laughed again, and this time Legolas joined in to, even though what they were laughing about wasn't terribly funny. It felt good to laugh, even though the dust probably really was messing with Legolas' allergies and even though his eyes were still raw and stinging. It was the small things, Aragorn figured, that made his life bearable.

Like the blonde who sat besides him, leaning forward to look into Aragorn's brown orbs with an assessing look, and then nodding firmly to himself.

"Can I hug you?"

He blinked.

"Uh- yeah? I guess?"

The Ravenclaw nodded and did just so, tugging the brunette into a quick embrace. It was awkward, of course, as they _were_ two preteen boys and hugs were not all too much of a normal social action for them, but it was nice all the same, and Aragorn found himself hugging back.

Legolas had settled his chin on his shoulder.

"Are you… okay?"

And no, he really wasn't, not much, but he was better, so it was fine. He was fine. He could _deal_.

"Yea- Yeah. There was, um, a first year. I helped her pick up her stuff when she tripped on the disappearing step but then she realized who I was and she- she practically ran away from me. It wasn't… it wasn't really great. But- I'm fine."

His voice cracked on the last word, and Legolas leaned back and looked at him, obviously not totally convinced but not mentioning it anyways.

The Ravenclaw was good like that, not mentioning Aragorn's weaknesses when he was already far too aware of them himself.

And then Legolas sneezed again, glancing up at him apologetically as soon as it ended, as if _he_ was the one who Aragorn had given up his time for., and not the other way around.

"You okay, to, like, go? Cause if we run I bet we can catch the end of supper and snag some dessert. I'm pretty sure there's gonna be pie and ice cream."

If he was perfectly honest with himself, Aragorn did not want to go. He wanted to stay in the musty old classroom for the rest of his days, becoming one with the dust so that he could never scare anyone ever again.

( _He wasn't his grandfather. He wasn't._ )

But instead he nodded and allowed his friend to help him off the floor, wandering out behind Legolas as the blonde began some tale of an earlier conversation with Faramir that he had had, content to listen to the Ravenclaw's rambles.

In the end, they didn't run all the way to the dining halls, instead meandering around the hallways and quietly conversing- Legolas doing the most of the talking- and laughing at stupid jokes and stupid stories, content to settle in the other's company.

Because of this, they were nearby when a scream filtered through the air and then suddenly shuttered flat.

For a few moments they were still, the echoes of the terrified cry sounding in their ears, and then they were trading looks and running, fast, because someone was in trouble and they already knew that there was something _out there_ and it was hurting people and-

They curved around the corner and stuttered to a stop because- because-

Because there was the girl, the Slytherin girl who had run away from him all but an hour or two ago. Stretched out across the ground with her hands shielding her face, eyes clenched shut and mouth open in a silent scream, blackened and burned and smoking, flecks of red and black covering her once fair skin.

Aragorn could smell it. Could taste the scent of burning flesh on his tongue.

Besides him, Legolas had blanched, hands clasped over his mouth.

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

Aragorn couldn't stop staring, but he couldn't help but agree, either.

He swallowed, hard, took a step forwards and then a step back.

"We gotta- we gotta go, we have to find someone. Get help-"

Suddenly, there was loud echoey sounds of conversation and the clatter of many feet.

Dinner was over.

And then they were surrounded by a circle of students, quiet and happy chatter abruptly cutting off and falling silent or giving way to horrified gasps, and then there was eyes on him and eyes on the girl and no, _no this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening-_

And then someone was pushing their way through the crowd, multiple someones, and it was Gimli and Boromir and Elladan and Elrohir and, and-

And Elrond. Elrond had stepped out from the masses of students, heading quickly to the girl paralyzed by fire on the ground and calling for someone to gather more teachers, for the prefects to get the students to bed, his wand out and enchanting quick, quiet spells with every passing moment.

And then Elrond was looking up at him, his _father_ was looking up at him, his eyes wide and sad and unreadable.

"Aragorn?"

 **...**

 **Poor, poor Aragorn. I really do love torturing him...**

 **Notes!**

 ***** I have come to the realization that I've been referring to Bilbo as Professor Bilbo and that he would probably be Professor Baggins, but I'm far too lazy to change it and I quite like the idea sooooo...

 ****** Yombrane Trees are completely and utterly of my own creation. It is NOT canon at all.

 ******* I also have no idea if classrooms like the one Aragorn was in even exist in Hogwarts, but artistic liberty is a must. :)

 **Thank you so much for my wonderful favoriters and followers! ZentangledFox15 and StarTwinsofLindon I AM LOOKING AT YOU! *hugs***

 **Huge MASSIVE THANK YOU TO MY REVIEWERS! YOU GUYS ARE LIKE, THE BEST! The Jade Raven of Rivendell, Thispiper, WriterGirl7673, Andy the willow tree, and my lovely Guest, you all ARE AWESOME. Like, you are my instant day brighteners, let me tell you. :) If I ever meet any of you in real life, I can and will bake you a batch of cookies for the sole purpose of your consumption.**

 _ **To Guest:**_ Haha! I'm glad to be back! *hugs* I'm so happy that you are happy that Sam and Legolas are getting to be friends, and I hope you enjoy the similar development between Frodo and Aragorn in this chapter, and may I remind you that the whole purpose of this website is to fangirl/boy and express love of the work!? :D And oh my goodness... sorry? For another cliffhanger? Oops? (I have problems, okay!?) Please don't die on me; I LIKE you! I most definitely will not lose interest in story; I have the next five chapters planned out to the specifics and the basic outline for the rest of it done too. I will FINISH THIS STORY EVEN IF IT KILLS ME! Besides, I enjoy the characters too much to abandon them. :) (And of course I responded to you! Who wouldn't respond to awesome enthusiastic people complimenting them and making them feel confident in their writing skills?) Anyways- Thanks for the wonderful review and I hoped you liked the update!

(Also, like, I think you accidentally posted your review three times? I can delete the extra two if you want, but it doesn't really matter.) *hugs*

 **So yeah! Until next time my friends! I hope to get a Trials and Hair of Teddy Lupin chapter done this week, an dthen after that It Happened At A Peace Conference. May the gods of schooling and quick writing be with me...**

 **Love ya, my tater tots! Sorry for the long AN!**

 **The Mashpotatoe Queen**


	21. Headmasters and Musings

***screams for three hours***

 **Hi... Sorry for vanishing off the face of the earth...**

 **Remember the beginning of this fic where I updated like once a week?**

 **Those were the days.**

 **As always, this fic is devoted to Andy. This fantastic person is fantastic, and everyone should worship their presence.**

 ** _..._**

 _Suddenly, there was loud echoey sounds of conversation and the clatter of many feet._

 _Dinner was over._

 _And then they were surrounded by a circle of students, quiet and happy chatter abruptly cutting off and falling silent or giving way to horrified gasps, and then there was eyes on him and eyes on the girl and no, no this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening-_

 _And then someone was pushing their way through the crowd, multiple someones, and it was Gimli and Boromir and Elladan and Elrohir and, and-_

 _And Elrond. Elrond had stepped out from the masses of students, heading quickly to the girl paralyzed by fire on the ground and calling for someone to gather more teachers, for the prefects to get the students to bed, his wand out and enchanting quick, quiet spells with every passing moment._

 _And then Elrond was looking up at him, his father was looking up at him, his eyes wide and sad and unreadable._

 _"Aragorn?"_

Aragorn swallowed hard at the sudden lump in his throat, remembering distinctly the feeling that he would outright die if his father turned in him in such a way, one that was scared and accusing instead of gentle and full of love.

He would, quite simply, not be able to deal with it at all.

In fact, he rather felt as if he wasn't able to deal with the stares at that very moment, the glares catching onto his frame like spiderwebs and making him feel incredibly small and insignificant and shameful- _he was not Isildur, he wasn't, he wasn't, so why did everyone_ treat _him like this-_ and he was frozen, staring back and lost in the suspicious gazes.

Legolas had no such qualms, his eyes switching from ill and watery to cold as glaciers as fast as anyone could draw their wands, outright scowling at the crowds of students and teachers before turning to Elrond, high and almighty and increasingly protective as the slant of Aragorn's shoulders curled ever inwards.

"He didn't do it! He was with me this whole time in one of the abandoned classrooms upstairs, and before that he was at Herbology," and of course Legolas know his schedule, of course he did, "with the Hufflepuffs. There is literally no conceivable time period where Aragorn could have done- done- _this."_

At these words, Legolas finally ran out of steam, everything else coming out in a single harried breath. Now he looked as if a strange mixture of fierce and determined and about-to-throw-up as his icy blue orbs trailed to the charred flesh in front of them, swallowing heavily on what was no doubt a mouthful of bile.

Elrond turned on him, and Aragorn tensed, ready for punishment, for disowning, for cold eyes and colder hearts, but Elrond was as he had always been, calm and kind and loving, and Aragorn could have cried for the relief he felt for it.

"Is that true?"

Slowly, carefully, focusing solely on his father, Aragorn nodded.

Whispers broke out among the crowd, hissed and loud and prominent, and it took all Aragorn had in him not to run away. They didn't believe him. None of them believed him. He hadn't been expecting it, hadn't even dared to really hope for it, but it still hurt. It _burned,_ as if what had happened to that girl's flesh was happening on his insides, burning away at his chest and soul and heart, and there was nothing he could do about it.

And then-

"Oh, shut up, Sean. Look at 'im. Does he look like someone who could be capable of such a crime?"

Gimli. That was Gimli. Gimli was standing up for him.

And then there was another voice, angry and bright and loud, defending his honour from the back. That was Boromir, for Aragorn would recognize his friend's voice anywhere.

And then there was a pair of, higher, brighter voices, jeering at someone who had begun to talk perhaps a little too loudly to be accident about his evilness. He started upon recognizing it as Merry and Pippin's tones.

And then there was another quieter voice, chastly scolding someone in the crowd with soft kind tones, and Aragorn knew it was Sam.

And then he was being led away, Elrond gently tugging him in one direction even as a pair of teachers lifted the body in preparation for the infirmary and the rest of the staff herded the other students in the opposite direction. The nudges were delicate, and Aragorn realized that he might be having some issue breathing, that he might be going into shock, but Legolas was besides him- apparently outright refusing to leave despite Elrond's insistence, staring right into the Eyebrows of Doom without backing down- and when Aragorn turned, a familiar head of tightly ringed black curls and shining blue eyes looked back.

The boy mouthed something, and Aragorn read his lips, and the building knot in his throat eased.

 _We believe you,_ Frodo had mouthed, and Aragorn was finally starting to hope that things would turn out alright.

* * *

Professor Gandalf tapped his long crooked finger on the wood of his desk.

Once.

Twice.

Again, again, again.

Legolas stayed silent, glaring and crossing his arms. He had said his piece on the matter, and now Gandalf was staring keenly at him, blue orbs wide and searching.

Legolas did not give in. He had faced his father head on and he would not fall before the man in front of him.

Aragorn was innocent, and he deserved better.

He could still feel the anger bubbling under his skin- the taste of bile still lingering on his tongue from the sheer _smell_ \- and his eyes wanted to smart from the unfairness of it all. Aragorn didn't deserve this. He didn't. The Gryffindor was one of the brightest, kindest people that he had ever met, and he didn't deserve the scorn and cruelty that he got.

So Legolas glared and crossed his arms and waited for the verdict, waited for his time to argue.

He wouldn't let Aragorn get expelled without a fight.

For his part, Aragorn was besides him, face still and pale even after he had explained his side of the story. In direct contrast to Legolas, he was loose and resigned.

Quietly, the dark haired boy spoke up, his eyes tired and dull.

"It wasn't me, Professor. Really."

Legolas nodded his head vigorously.

Finally, Professor Gandalf leaned forwards, that small spark in his eyes seemingly lighting up once more, and when he spoke his voice was kind and warm.

"My dear boy, I never doubted it."

Aragorn closed his eyes in relief, slumping in his chair and heaving a deep breath. Legolas gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, a smile working its way onto his lips despite the dire situation.

"So Aragorn's not going to be expelled?"

The headmaster shook his head, long beard waving.

"No."

The blonde wiped at his forehead, still feeling vaguely ill even as he tried to focus on the positives, even as the world seemed too heavy and too light all at once. The smell of charred flesh was still in his nose and he kept thinking back to the hallway, to the girl and her frozen scream, to the horrified and accusing whispers, to Aragorn and the anxious tensing of his shoulders.

He had headache. He wanted to sleep. He would say he was hungry, but the mere thought of food was honestly just making him want to throw up.

He didn't say any of this, simply squeezed Aragorn's arm again and asked, "So, what now?"

Gandalf's kind expression flickered and faded, replaced by one filled with concern and determination, somehow making the elderly man's face seem even older. If one was observant and bright enough- and indeed, Legolas was- there was also the barest tracests of quiet fear hidden in those blue orbs.

The blonde couldn't help but feel his own terror curl up tight in his throat, because it was thing to be scared of something and quite another to have your teacher, too.

But he said nothing, and watched.

"I'm afraid I don't know. I had hoped- Well, I had hoped that there would have been progress by now, but there has been nothing. And with the attacks and the rumours of Isildur's Monster rising, we might have to close down the school."

Aragorn spoke up, his own voice quiet.

"Sir- Professor- Do you- Do you think that these things are happening because I'm here? Cause- Because I can leave. I- I'll leave, if you think it best-"

Legolas could feel his neck protesting from how fast he whipped it around to look at his friend.

"What- Aragorn- No! It's _not_ your fault!"

Gandalf was shaking his head as well, his brows furrowed.

"No, Aragorn. I cannot and will not ask for you to leave. Your presence here has nothing to do with the attacks, and is of mere coincidence. It is not _you_ who are doing these things, and I don't want to hear you thinking about it in that manner, you hear me?"

The Gryffindor nodded, and Gandalf nodded in turn.

"For now, we'll institutionalize new safety measures. No travelling alone, escorted classes, stricter curfews, and more patrolling teachers."

The wizard looked the two young boys in the eye.

"Be safe. Be smart. Watch each other's back, and keep a look out."

They were dismissed, and they slowly stood and walked out of the office. Legolas could tell his friend was exhausted- and no wonder, first there had been the crying and then the crime scene and then the accusations and the the interrogation, and even Legolas was feeling exhausted.

He didn't know why he was so, so tired.

Maybe it was the lack of food.

The door swung open just before they got there, and in stalked the imposing figure of Professor Saruman. Legolas jerked out of the way, practically jumping to move out of the man's war path. Aragorn seemed to become aware enough of the world to turn and give him a concerned look at that- because this was Aragorn, and there wasn't a selfish molecule in his body- but the blonde simply should his head and wrapped an arm around himself.

Somehow, he felt even _more_ tired.

He didn't like Professor Saruman much anymore.

He had never adored the man, of course. The professor was abrasive and strict and a little bit rude in his teaching methods, going fast through difficult material and not taking the time to explain again for those who didn't get it right away, even sometimes directing vaguely insulting commentary towards slower students. However. it was always obvious he new his work and he gave good information, lack of actual practice with wands aside, and Legolas could respect that.

But ever since that week of illness that felt like it was a lifetime ago, he hadn't felt… comfortable around the man. The lesson made him tired beyond just usual class boredom and whenever the Charms Teacher came too close, he felt as if someone had poured ice into his veins.

Whenever Professor Saruman actually _touched_ him, handing back papers or brushing past him on his way to his desk, Legolas always felt drained and empty. _Wrong._

It was probably nothing. It was probably just Legolas working himself up into a tizzy because he associated the classroom with the ugly feeling of the horrid fever and sickness, and in turn associated the man with the classroom. It wasn't important, not when Aragorn was drowning under his social anxiety and Gimli's continued glares aimed at his direction. Not when people were being attacked, not when Legolas's Father had gone silent, each letter Legolas writes to him going without response.

Not when so many people had it so much worse.

Legolas wasn't going to complain. He could handle it, he could handle it and he was fine. Elrond had already been so kind to him, had taken care of him and spent valuable resources and time on him when there were those who needed it so much more.

It wasn't important. Everything was fine. He was fine.

He just didn't much like Charms Class, that was all.

They stumbled out of the headmaster's office, and they were greeted with Elrond's worried grimace and patient manner, who immediately reached out for Aragorn the minute he laid eyes on him

The brunette went willingly, haltingly falling into his adoptive father's embrace and wrapping his smaller limbs around the older man. His face was smushed against the Professor's chest, and Elrond had a hand trailing through the brown hair in soothing strokes, comforting murmurs Legolas couldn't quite catch echoing around them.

The blonde took a step back, tucking himself ever so slightly into the shadows and very much out of the way, eyes averted and tracing the detailed strokes of the closest paintings.

It was a quiet moment, a private moment, a moment not meant for Legolas' eyes, not really, and he okay with that.

His blue orbs flickered back to the scene, just for a moment, before turning away again.

His mind wandered to his desk, where a half finished letter was waiting to be sent.

Perhaps, this time, he would get a reply.

He doubted it.

Sometimes... sometimes Legolas wished his bond with his father was as close as the one Aragorn so obviously had with his family. That kind of close relationship feeling where Elrond went out of the way to sometimes meander around the Gryffindor table to say hi, or Aragorn would arrive a couple minutes late to the library by saying he lost track of time talking with his dad. Elladan and Elrohir would sometimes outright randomly jump his friend in the hallways, pulling the brunette in for noogies and cheerfully swinging him around and teasing while Aragorn complained loudly and laughed at their antics.

Sometimes, Legolas would look at the closeness and look back at his own quiet home, where the house was too big and the conversations were distant or nonexistent, where hugs were rare and _I love you_ 's rarer, and wished desperately that his relationship with his father wasn't so broken or tired or strained. He knew his Father loved him. He knew that he cared. But still...

Sometimes.

But he didn't say it. Aragorn needed every scrap of positive attention he could get, and Legolas wasn't going to ruin it by being petty and whiny, wasn't going to make Aragorn feel _guilty,_ because he knew his friend and he knew that that would be how he felt. The Gryffindor would somehow convince himself that it was his fault, that being with his family was somehow _bad_ and hurting the blonde, when really Legolas was fine.

His mind flashed back to the girl.

It wasn't that important.

(His problems weren't that important.)

Elrond finally pulled away and turned his attention to the blonde. The Ravenclaw simply smiled. He felt tired, wanted the whole day to be done already, and when Elrond asked if he was feeling alright Legolas pushed back the dull pounding in his head and nodded.

He was fine.

Really.

The Transfiguration Professor escorted them to their dorms,first dropping Aragorn off and then Legolas. His steps were brisk as he guided them along, and the two boys went willingly, wandering quietly through the cold echoing halls.

Legolas shivered.

He wondered what it would feel like to _burn_.

 **...**

 **ANDDDDDDDD FINISHED!**

 **It's pretty short, only like two and a half thousand words, but it felt like a good stopping point. AP Exams are coming up, but the next chapter hopefully should be up soonish, as in not having a several months hiatus.**

 **If people are still there, reading this despite my sporadic updating, thanks for staying with me.**

 **A giant thank you for all my followers/favoriters! Thispiper, walking by moonlight, Italy's Driving, minouuu974, livingwithbooks, TimeShard13, RamsesX2, emma3882, Noor82003, and Lily Carmen Black, you all are positively lovely and I thank you so much!**

 **To my fantastic AMAZINg reviewers, Thispiper, Joyday05 ( TWICE!), Puffers Aren't Duffers (love your username, by the way), Andy the willow tree, Guest2, **

**To Joyday05:** Ah! I'm so glad that you love this, and I hope your suspense has not killed you! Also, don't cry! Pleeeeaseee don't cry! HERE, HAVE THIS CHAPTER. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? ELROND HAS HUGS. Aaaaah- spelling mistakes. THE EVIL THINGS. I was actually rereading this fic to get back into the zone and I noticed SO MANY, so I'll probably actually end up doing a complete edit for this whole thing at some point, and keep your spot out in mind. Thanks so much for the help! (Also, thank you so much for the review!)

 **Guest2:** Hello there! Thank you so much for your kind words and I'm so happy that you found my take on this classic trope unique and enjoyable. Yes, poor poor Aragorn. I love to torture him, hate to see him tortured. Sorry for the long wait and thank you for your lovely review!

 **goddess7533:** Greetings! I'm happy to hear that you're enjoying the story! AND, actually, I HAVE A PLAAAAN for Arwen and Tauriel. I cannot reveal what it is, but IT EXISTS. Muwahahahaha. So yeah, there's a reason they haven't popped up yet, and they will very probably pop up in the future, if nothing drastic happens to my muse. :) Hope that helps and thanks for the review!

 **Boom! That was a long note, so sorry about that.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for reading!**


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